Rotten Sunshine
by MetaCandescence
Summary: Thrown into a world wrought with loss, death, and decay, Charlie has to fight for everything. Fight to protect what's precious to her, to survive, and to keep her sanity from slipping. She learns she can't always save those close to her, but that's never going to stop her from trying. (Eventual Daryl/OC)
1. Chapter 1

Rotten Sunshine

A/N: Hello there, I would like to welcome you to the first chapter of _Rotten Sunshine!_ I'm really excited for this story and I can only hope that you are as well! I've been developing this story and character for a couple weeks now, which entails obsessing over Norman Reedus interviews and trying to get a good feel of who Daryl really is. I'm halfway done with the second chapter, and I can say pretty confidently that Daryl will appear in the third chapter. But the romance is going to be extremely slow-coming because I'm trying to keep the relationship grounded and as realistic as possible.

If any of y'all are here from my Supernatural story, _Rabbit, My Claws are Down, _I just want to say thanks for sticking with me! If you aren't I just want to say how honored I am that you'd take the time to read my story. Thanks and I hope you enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Walking Dead in any way shape or form, nor am I associated with anyone from it.

* * *

At 5 AM, years of deeply ingrained habit cause Charlie's eyes to slide open. She's gotten up this early since she was just a little girl. Every morning at 5 AM her father would poke his head in the door with a stern, "Good morning, Charlie," that never failed to wake her. Then they would have breakfast and work out together. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes briefly, she sits up and stretches. Her joints popping in unison causes her to emit a low satisfied groan as she tosses her legs over the side of her bed and pads softly out of her bedroom into the kitchen.

Grabbing a ponytail holder off the counter, she tosses her wheat blonde hair into a sloppy bun and pries the refrigerator door open. She grabs the carton of eggs and places them on the counter, pulling the milk and butter out not long after. Falling into a routine allows her to stop thinking about her movements as she methodically scrambles two eggs and slides them onto a plate embroidered with cherry vines. She puts all of her egg making materials back into the fridge and then grabs a package of cherry tomatoes, a small portion-sized bag of baby carrots and a semi-clear bag filled with broccoli.

She sits at her coffee table after placing the vegetables on her plate, reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. The first thing she sees after the TV crackles to life is a man dressed in a hazmat suit. With a frown she changes the channel. This channel shows a sick woman in a hospital bed, an infected bite mark interrupting the pale skin of her forearm. It looks as if it's draining some kind of sickly liquid.

Struggling to hold onto her appetite, Charlie shuts the TV off and eats in silence. She doesn't want to think about the infection that seemed to have taken like a plague. It's already interrupted her work schedule. With everyone in a tizzy about the apocalypse, it's not so surprising that no one is really worried about taekwondo or self-defense. It's a shame really; maybe something she'd teach them would save their lives. After her silent breakfast, she gets dressed in athletic shorts and a baggy shirt and heads down to her apartment building's workout room.

The walk to the workout room is short and uneventful for the most part, except the strange man that was stumbling aimlessly around the parking lot. Charlie didn't bother with him though. He didn't look to be hurting anything, besides people out this hour are shady as hell. Messing with him would be akin to kicking a hornet's nest. She opens the door to the workout room and shoves her ear buds in, clicking play on her mp3 player as she makes her way over to the treadmill. The treadmill beeps as it turns on, signaling the start of her workout.

Charlie's eyes slide shut as she falls into the rhythm of her jog. She was sort of spoiled to the luxury of being able to use a treadmill, because instead of having to watch where she was going, she could just run endlessly. She uses her early morning run to sort through all of her thoughts, yet clear her mind at the same time. It must've only been ten minutes into her workout when a foul smell makes her face curl in disgust. She blindly reaches out and turns the treadmill off, the machine slowly coming to a stop. She doesn't bother opening her eyes, instead leisurely popping the buds out of her ears. Maybe the heater got turned on by accident. It always did make the place smell horrible.

Before Charlie can decide whether or not she wants to check the thermostat, a cold clammy hand wraps around her ankle, causing her eyes to snap open and an immediate scream to escape her mouth. Attached to the hand around her ankle is Mr. Foster, her neighbor. Rather, half of Mr. Foster. He seems to have dragged himself over to her with his hands, judging by the trail of clotted blood and flesh. She can see his spine and his intestines trailing behind him like sickly red and black snakes. Where are his legs?

Mr. Foster moans as he uses his arms to pull himself even closer to Charlie, his jaw unhinging and hanging open as he moves to bite her calf. She screams once again, her other foot whipping out to kick Mr. Foster, the toe of her shoe sinking into his eye socket with a squelch. The force of her kick sends him rolling, putting a little distance between the two of them.

Sickened, Charlie gags, bile filling her mouth as she stumbles further away from Mr. Foster. He has already recovered from her kick and is crawling after her again. She breathes in through her nose, catching a whiff of Mr. Foster's rotted corpse. It sends her over the edge and she vomits, her breakfast of eggs and vegetables splattering all over her sneakers and shins in a multicolored splash.

The TV was right. The dead were rising.

Fight or flight kicks in and Charlie choses flight, her vomit-slicked sneakers having trouble catching purchase on the tile floor as she tries to get away from the abomination she's been calling Mr. Foster. Finally making it to the exit, Charlie throws it open and sprints out, every instinct in her body screaming for her to get to her apartment, where she'll be safe.

Charlie takes the four flights of stairs two at a time, her entire body alive with raw nerves and the bitter taste of vomit fouling her mouth. She makes it to her floor, sprinting down the hall as fast as she can when a wet smacking sound stops her in her tracks. She turns the corner to be greeted with a horrid scene. Sprawled out on the ground is the body of Mrs. Goode, the woman two apartments down with the yappy Pomeranian, and kneeling hunched over her is Kendra, her daughter. Kendra's back faces Charlie, but Charlie can see her tiny five year old shoulders heaving as if she were crying.

Charlie's heart lurches painfully in her chest. It was obvious Mrs. Goode was dead. Charlie has no idea what happened, but she can't leave Kendra all alone out here. It's dangerous. Charlie steps cautiously closer, "Kendra? Are you okay?" she calls softly, trying not to startle the child.

Kendra's entire body tenses before she slowly turns to face Charlie, her small sweet face coated in blood and grime, her usually soft blue eyes mooned over and cloudy. Kendra moans loudly and staggers towards Charlie her arms outstretched as if to embrace the shaking woman.

Charlie takes a horrified step backwards, absolutely terrified of the small girl stumbling towards her. But she has to get passed her to get back to her apartment. She swallows thickly, trying to decide the best way to get around Kendra. She doesn't have to think too hard. She waits until Kendra is close, then she simply uses her superior height as an advantage and sweeps the child's legs out from under her and sprints past while she gets back on her feet.

Finally making it to her apartment, Charlie yanks the keys out of her pocket and shoves it in the lock. She throws the door open and snaps it closed behind her, locking the dead bolt. Her heart beats frantically inside her chest, her palms sweat bullets and her eyes dart suspiciously around her apartment, no longer taking it for granted that it was safe.

Moments later, tiny fists beat on the wooden door accented by the occasional snarl.

Charlie darts into her bedroom and yanks her cell phone off the charger, her fingers dialing a familiar number before she even realizes what she's doing. She presses the phone to her ear and waits anxiously for the recipient to pick up.

"Charlie?! Oh thank God, Charlie, where the hell are you?! You were supposed to have evacuated already!" Seth's voice scolds, his own worry and panic for Charlie apparent.

"What's going on, Seth?! First Mr. Foster tried to take a bite out of me while I was jogging and then Kendra was in the hallway EATING her mother! She was eating Mrs. Goode and when I tried to help her she came after me!" Charlie babbles, feeling as if she were teetering precariously on the edge of a very big break down.

"I'm coming to get you! Don't step out of your apartment, just pack as much food and clothes as you can! I'll be there in ten minutes," Seth commands, calming Charlie with the thought of him coming to get her.

"Okay, okay… just be safe," Charlie whispers, her fingers shaking. "And… And use the back staircase to get in, okay? Kendra's at the mouth of the other one. Be careful," she warns.

"I understand, I'll use the other stairs. I'll be careful," Seth promises, hanging up.

Charlie stares at her phone blankly for a few moments, the full horror of her situation not yet hitting home. She throws the phone on her bed and briskly crosses the room to her closet, pulling out her biggest suitcase and filling it with as many clothes as she can fit inside it. After that she gets a smaller bag and fills it with toiletries and other necessities. By the time she's finished getting her toiletries packed, she can hear Seth beating on her door.

Not wasting any time, Charlie drops her bag and dashes to the door, unlocking it and yanking Seth inside. Once he's safely inside and the door's closed once again, she wraps him in the tightest hug she can manage, grateful beyond words for his presence. Seth returns the hug full force, crushing her to him in a vice grip. "I didn't know it was serious, I'm so, so sorry Seth!" Charlie mutters into his shoulder, having to stand on her tip toes.

Seth breathes heavily, "It's okay, we're okay. We have time to leave still. Are you finished packing?"

Charlie shakes her and takes a step back, taking a moment to analyze his face. His shaggy blonde hair is the same as usual, but his hazel eyes have extensive bags under them. His lips pull into a tired smile, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly. He works, or used to before the students started turning into cannibalizing freaks, as a gymnastics teacher. He used to compete in gymnastics tournaments, even though he doesn't any more, he still practices and stays in competing shape. Meaning he's ridiculously buff. He's also the best friend she's ever had. Still shaken up, Charlie pulls him into another hug, the top of her head barely making it to his shoulder. At 6'4, Seth towered over her 5'7 frame. "We better finish packing, we have to get out of here," he says, patting her on the back softly.

Charlie nods and pulls away, "I only have to pack some food and water. My clothes are already packed," she says, jogging into her bedroom and grabbing the large plastic storage bin she had kept her winter clothes in. Unceremoniously dumping out the clothes she had decided she didn't want, she brings the bin to her kitchen and begins to rifle through her pantry, filling the bin with as much perishable and nonperishable food as she can get her hands on.

"I'm going to take your suitcases to the car," Seth announces as he opens the door, aforementioned suitcases in his grasp.

"Be careful," Charlie sternly warns, her large dark brown eyes narrowed in concern. Usually in response to her concern, Seth would laugh it off and call her paranoid. But today was different, today was the beginning of what looked to be the apocalypse if she was to believe the TV. Seth nods reverently, his face grim. She swallows her worry and continues to shove food in the bin indiscriminately. She knows that if everything is as bad as she's been lead to believe, food will become scarce. She can't be picky. After packing all of the food she can, she drags two unopened cases of water out from the bottom of the pantry.

Seth reenters her apartment, "Do you have your gun?" He asks, coming over to where she's standing in the kitchen.

"It's in my bedroom," Charlie answers. The look on his face tells her immediately that she'll need it, forcing her to realize once again how serious this situation is. Without another word, she returns to her bedroom. It's in a sad state right now, clothes and items strung all over. She had basically torn her room apart looking for things that she would need. She ducks into her closet for what may be the last time and pulls a plastic case off of the top shelf. She flicks the latches open and peeks inside. Sitting on a bed of foam is a Glock 17 and two extra magazines. It was a gift from Seth a couple years back, along with gun safety classes. They're going to come in handy.

Grabbing the two boxes of ammo from the shelf, Charlie calls back to Seth, "I'm ready now!" She picks her purse up off her bed and puts the ammo boxes inside before slinging it across her shoulders.

"Okay," Seth says, appearing in her door way, "let's go."

Charlie takes a deep breath, trying to burn the image of her destroyed apartment into her brain. She didn't want to forget the place that has been her home for so long. "Let's go," she echoes weakly, feeling as if she was about to take the plunge into a pool of freezing water. Compared to what's actually happening, the frigid water might've been more fun.

"Wait, Kendra's still out there," Seth says, reminding Charlie. "She was distracted by her… meal when I walked by earlier. But I think she'll hear us this time."

Charlie's heart freezes in her chest as she nods grimly. "Okay," she replies numbly, not fully aware of what her fingers are doing until she's holding the Glock in her hands and sliding the magazine out to check the ammo.

"She's just a kid, Charlie! We don't have to… We can't kill her," Seth says his eyes locking onto her gun, his eyebrows crease and his lips pulled into a frown. "We can't kill her, Charlie."

There's still ammo in the magazine from the last time she went target practicing. She slides it back into the gun and swallows thickly. "She's not human anymore, Seth. You can't think of her as a little girl," she says softly. "She's out there eating her mother. She stopped being human the moment the infection killed her and then brought her back."

Seth still looks conflicted, and Charlie understands that no matter what she says he won't understand. "She's just a little girl…" He reiterates, putting a hand on her forearm.

Charlie shrugs his hand off and heads into the hallway, her fingers wrapped tightly around her gun. Seth doesn't follow.

Kendra's in the same spot she was the first time Charlie saw her, though Kendra's back is still facing Charlie since she chased Charlie into her apartment. She's still shoveling chunks of her mother's flesh into her mouth. From behind, she still looks like the little girl that sat and ate Cheerios on Charlie's couch while watching cartoons. Charlie grits her teeth and steadies her hands, "Kendra," she calls, waiting for the little girl to turn around.

Kendra turns and snarls, her face coated in such a thick layer of blood and flesh that it takes Charlie a moment to realize that in her gluttonous feeding, Kendra has eaten through her own lips. Her tiny teeth are all on permanent display, bloodied with flesh and sinews stuck in between them. Her belly is distended with the size of her meal, but she continued to feast up until Charlie interrupted her. Charlie wonders briefly if the child would've kept eating until her stomach ruptured, if it hasn't already.

Kendra gets to her feet with the exact amount of coordination you would expect from an overstuffed corpse, that is to say none.

"That's a good girl," Charlie says soothingly, a broken smile on her lips, "I know you're a good girl. Do you remember that time your mother left you with me when your puppy had to be rushed to the vet? You were so strong, you hardly even cried even though I know you were scared for Mr. Sparkles and you didn't know me very well."

Kendra's head tilts and she looks about as puzzled as any corpse ever has, but it doesn't stop her progress. She still staggers toward Charlie with an odd lurching motion that unsettles the older woman.

"I really am sorry, Kendra. I hope your mommy can forgive me." Charlie whispers, clicking the safety off.

Kendra snarls and gnashes her very visible teeth together, her stumbling gait picking up speed the closer she gets to Charlie.

Charlie refuses to close her eyes as her finger presses down on the trigger. The bullet leaves the barrel and sinks into Kendra's forehead, violently throwing the little girl's body to the ground. To close her eyes would be to deny Kendra's existence.

Part of Charlie Noble died along with Kendra. She doesn't know how big that part was, or what it took with it.

But only one thing is certain in this world where the dead walk; to close her eyes to reality is to embrace death.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey guys! So welcome to the second chapter of _Rotten Sunshine._ I don't have much to say other than I hope you enjoy! Please remember to leave a review, I'd love to hear what you guys have to say! Also, much love to mcgonagiggles! She helped me look over this chapter and the first one. She patiently puts up with my game of 20 questions afterwards and is always a big help! :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Walking Dead or any recognizable trademarks.

* * *

Charlie fidgets, shifting uncomfortably as she tries to keep her legs from sticking to the leather interior of Seth's car. She's still in the baggy shirt and athletic shorts she put on to work out in this morning and her sneakers are still splattered with vomit. But unfortunately, that's not the most uncomfortable part of this car ride. The most uncomfortable part is the way that Seth's been treating her as if she were a murderer of some sort.

Technically, she is a murderer. Kendra was alive in some form of the word, and now, because of Charlie, she is certainly dead. But she was infected, she was eating her mother. If she had bitten Charlie or Seth, they would've died as well. Because they would be carrying the food and water, they would be easy targets. It would've been so easy for Kendra to bite one of them, to sink her tiny teeth into their flesh. She was already dead; her mother wouldn't want her to be a monster like that. Her mother would've wanted that monster killed so that it would no longer mock the image of her baby girl. She would've thanked Charlie.

That's what Charlie has been telling herself at least. She's not sure if she believes it or not.

Seth refuses to hear any of it. His hands are wrapped around the steering wheel in much the same way a drowning man holds onto a life preserver, his hazel eyes are locked onto the road with unnatural focus and his posture is rigid and stiff. He hasn't looked at Charlie since he shut and locked the door to her apartment behind him.

It's going to be a long car ride.

* * *

"We're almost there," Seth's voice abruptly breaks the silence, causing Charlie to jump.

Charlie runs her hands nervously over her thighs, trying in vain to straighten out the bunched up material of her shorts. That's the first thing he's said since before she killed Kendra. It came as a shock to her, but she can't help but hope that it's a good sign that he even bothered to say anything. "Where are we going, Seth?" She finally asks, tired of being in the dark.

Seth's quiet for a long moment, causing Charlie to assume he isn't going to answer her. But finally he turns his eyes on her for the first time in at least an hour. "My family's hunting cabin," he answers at last. "It should still be stocked from the last hunting season, we should be safe."

Charlie nods, her mouth going dry with the weight of the words that have been sitting and souring on her tongue for hours. "I'm sorry that you're upset, Seth," Charlie mumbles, staring at her hands, the same hands that took a little girl's life earlier that day. "But I'm not sorry that I killed her. She was going to bite one of us."

Seth's lips pull into a taut line, his grip on the steering wheel tightening so much it causes the leather to squeak. Having said her piece, Charlie wisely choses to remain silent and instead directs her gaze out the window. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the side view mirror, she pauses to study her face closely, feeling as if there should be a significant change to be seen on the surface to represent the change on the inside. She doesn't look any different than usual. Her dark brown eyes still stand starkly against her light blonde hair and pale complexion, but that's normal. They have dark rings under them though, from the last few days of worrying about the infection and getting little sleep. Nothing has changed other than that. Her face looks the same as it always has; plain. The most striking thing about her is her dark eyes.

Charlie's so busy staring at her own reflection that she almost doesn't notice when Seth turns off of the paved road and onto a small dirt road. They follow the shabby dirt road for only a minute before coming to a padlocked gate. Seth parks the car and takes something off of the keys in the ignition before opening his door and walking up to the gate. He unlocks the padlock and unwinds the chain, pulling the gate completely open. Instead of walking back to the car, he meets Charlie's gaze and makes a beckoning motion.

Charlie stares at him dumbly for a moment before what he wants her to do clicks in her brain. She crawls across the center console and plants herself in the driver's seat. After shutting the door and putting the car in drive, she grips the smooth leather of the steering wheel. She releases a slow breath and presses gently on the gas pedal, easing the car forward. Once the car's through the gate, Charlie puts it back in park and crawls across the center console again, making sure she's back in her seat before Seth returns to the car. Seth closes the gate and replaces the chains and padlock before he comes back to the car. He enters without a word and continues driving.

Charlie closes her eyes and leans her forehead against the cool glass of the window, letting it calm her. She tries unsuccessfully to clear her thoughts, but it's about as easy as clearing a room full of angry bees without getting stung.

They must've driven another 20 minutes of extremely slow driving over the bumpiest dirt road imaginable. So by the time that she sees the little cabin that belongs to Seth's family, she's ready to make a flying leap from the car and worship the ground. But in this moment, where she's walking on eggshells with Seth, it would be an entirely inappropriate thing to do.

Seth parks the car and immediately exits, going around to the front and leaning on it, his head in his hands and his body hunched over as if he's in physical pain. Charlie is stunned for a few moments before she wrenches the door open and jogs around to where Seth is. She's about to put a hesitant hand on his shoulder, unsure of how welcoming of her company he is at the moment or whether she's the reason for his pain, when Seth's considerably larger hand shoots out and envelopes her wrist. In one smooth motion he pulls her into his chest, his thick arms wrapping tightly around her and desperately crushing her in a hug.

Surprised, it takes Charlie a couple moments to relax and hug him back, her head resting on his chest as her ears are filled with the sound of his ragged breathing. "I'm sorry, Seth," she whispers, figuring she's the cause of his distress.

Tears drip onto her hair, but Seth's only reaction is to tighten his hold, the message coming through loud and clear, "_All's forgiven._"

* * *

After arriving the day before, Charlie and Seth brought everything inside and got situated, going straight to bed soon after. It was an emotionally scarring day that was sure to be the first of many to follow. The cabin had two rooms. A master bedroom that was fully furnished, king-sized bed and a large chest of dressers filled with his parent's clothes. The other room was somewhat smaller, with two twin beds, a shared nightstand and a large dresser. That was the one Charlie and Seth had taken, Seth did it out of habit and Charlie out of respect for his parent's belongings. There's a bathroom and a kitchen, but without running water the bathroom's really just a room with a mirror in it. Charlie and Seth are forced to use the rather gross outhouse. The kitchen's only a smidge more useful since they can store food in there, but neither the fridge nor the oven work. She figures they'll use the fire pit outside to cook their food.

"Okay," Charlie says, looking over all of the food and water they had managed to scrounge up. They had more than she thought they would. Seth was right when he said the cabin would be stocked. "If we're careful this should last nearly a month and a half. We should go find more soon though."

"The closest thing is an outlet that sells outdoor gear, they probably have MREs," Seth says as he methodically sorts the food into perishable and nonperishable. "They'll have packets of beef jerky, at least."

"That's good. You know how to hunt, right?" Charlie asks. She knows the answer, but she just wants to hear it, to confirm.

"Yeah, dad and I used to spend every summer out here," Seth replies, "I thought you knew that. This cabin's been in our family forever."

"Will you teach me?" Charlie asks, "It could be helpful because we might need to depend on hunting in the future."

"Yeah, that's, um, that's a good idea," Seth answers, his eyes raking across the numerous taxidermied animals that decorated the cabin. With a twinge of sadness Charlie realizes that Seth and his father must've shot some of them. She's almost positive that Seth's remembering some better, simpler times when he and his father could escape to their sanctuary for months at a time. It must hurt him to be up here without his father.

"The sooner we start the better," Seth mumbles, standing up and offering Charlie a hand. She grasps his hand and he hoists her to her feet effortlessly. It's just a ploy to get his mind off of things, but Charlie could use some forgetting too. Learning a new survival skill is just a really good, helpful excuse.

Seth leads her to a locked closet, pulling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking it. Inside is a couple hunting rifles, a shotgun, several hand guns, and three large hunting knives, along with quite a few folding hunting knives. But what are most interesting to her are the two compound bows. Seth picks one up and runs his fingers over it. "You should be strong enough to draw the bowstring," he comments, handing it to her suddenly. "You can use my dad's until we get down to that hunting outlet to get you your own."

"Thank you, Seth, I promise I'll take care of it," Charlie immediately replies, staring at the black compound bow in something akin to awe.

"I know you will," Seth says, giving her a small smile over his shoulder as he grabs the other bow and a quiver full of arrows.

"Did you use the bows to hunt most of the time?" Charlie asks as he shuts the door to the weapons closet, not bothering to relock it.

"Generally, yeah, dad always said it was more fun to use the bows instead of the guns," Seth says, leading her through the cabin to the back door. He opens it and steps outside onto the small porch attached to the cabin, holding the door for Charlie. "There are some targets set up back here for practice. They're a little ways a way though." He shuts the door behind Charlie and goes down the steps, headed for the tree line.

"Why is that?" Charlie asks, following closely behind him.

"Don't want anyone to get hit," Seth answers simply, stepping over the exposed roots of a large tree. He knows exactly where he's going; he doesn't need the path at all to find his way. He's played in these woods since he was old enough to walk. It would take something extreme happening to cause him to get lost. Charlie squints, making out what seem to be four or five deer in the distance, all of them looking their way. They're as still as statues. It takes her a couple moments to realize the deer are plastic and also what they're probably going to use for target practice.

Once they get to where the deer are set up, Seth starts by explaining all of the parts of the bow and their functions, the arrow shelf, the cams, the sight, the cable guard, and more. After that he gave several demonstrations of how to draw the bow and the best way to shoot, hitting his target without fail. Charlie listens intently, doing her best to remember everything he's saying so she can put it to practice when the time comes.

"You try now," Seth says, motioning to the bow grasped in Charlie's fingers. She raises the bow, her left hand firmly wrapped around the grip as she tries to settle into the position she saw Seth use. "Here," Seth says, gently adjusting her stance by nudging her feet apart with one of his, "you have better balance like this." He hands her an arrow and helps her load it into the bow. "Now, pull the bowstring back to your cheek."

Charlie complies, her fingers wrapping around the bowstring and pulling it back until her hand is next to her cheek. There was a little more resistance than she imagined, but it wasn't hard. Thankfully her arms were long enough that she could draw the bow to its full length. "Now just aim down the sights at the closest deer. You already know how to aim, so it shouldn't be that hard," Seth instructs, pointing to one of the plastic deer.

Charlie nods, closing one eye and using the sight on the bow to try and aim. It's a little weird aiming with a bow, but, like Seth said, she can already aim. All she has to do is get used to aiming with a bow. Releasing a slow, steady breath, she releases the bowstring, shooting the arrow. It has a short speedy flight before it spears through the nose of the deer she aimed at. She lowers the bow and purses her lips, not sure whether to be disappointed or happy.

Seth claps her on the shoulder, laughing heartily, "Hey! You hit it!" he congratulates. "Give it a couple days and you'll be a regular Legolas, eh?" he snickers at his own joke before pulling another arrow out of the quiver clipped on his belt. "Here, let's do that again. This time you'll have to nock the arrow yourself," he says, placing the colorful arrow in her palm.

Charlie grins, deciding that she's happy if he's happy with her first shot. She wraps her fingers around the arrow and tugs it out of his grasp. "I've already got the long blonde hair and brown eyes down," she remarks playfully.

* * *

It's been a month now since Charlie and Seth evacuated the city. They had been listening to the little crank radio Seth brought and all of the broadcasts seemed to be promising food and shelter at Atlanta. They almost packed up to head down there, but the broadcasts stopped abruptly a week ago. Now there's absolutely nothing on air besides the prerecorded warnings that told her to wash her hands often, report suspicious activity, barricade her home, to avoid all contact with infected individuals, to seek immediate professional help for any bites from infected individuals and stay calm and wait for official instruction. So far she's doing a pretty poor job of following those instructions. The cabin doesn't have any running water, so her entire body is pretty filthy disgusting. Especially with all of the hunting she and Seth have been doing. That's what they've taken to doing to pass time. Usually they only come back with some squirrels and maybe a rabbit, but Charlie isn't complaining. It's pretty nice to have meat, even if it is somewhat gamey. Time seems to be in abundance now that there aren't any classes for Charlie to teach or attend. The days seem to drag a little, but she doesn't mind. It's almost pleasant.

Charlie's hunting skills have improved by leaps and bounds, the hardest thing for her to learn was moving quietly but once she got that down it was almost like a game. A game that kept them fed. She convinced Seth to teach her to skin them as well, even though he insisted that he could do it by himself and that it was too gross for a 'delicate flower,' like Charlie to do. That remark earned him a punch in the arm.

"Hey, Seth, do you think we should take a trip to that outlet you were talking about?" Charlie asks as she methodically cleans the compounds bows. She isn't sure whether it's still running or whether it's abandoned. She hasn't left the area surrounding the cabin since she arrived. The thought of what the outside world might look like makes her uneasy, she has almost no idea what to expect. But, if the dwindling of radio stations is anything to go by, then it's not good.

Seth hums as he skins a rabbit, "Yeah," he says, "it'd be a good thing to do before we run out of water and are forced to look for some."

"I wonder what things are like out there…" Charlie says, thinking out loud as she gingerly sets down the newly cleaned bow.

"There's no way to know unless we go see," Seth says as finishes skinning the rabbit.

Charlie and Seth have a quiet lunch of fire-roasted rabbit, tinned peaches and a shared bottle of water. After that, they pack up for an outing. "It's only 30 minutes away from here," Seth says, picking up a handgun and some extra ammo as well as a knife. "A lot of that time is spent on the dirt road that leads here, though."

"That's not too long," Charlie remarks as she picks up an emptied backpack. If they're going to go looting, then they need something to stash their loot in. She puts her glock in the holster on her belt before sliding a sheathed knife onto the other side. As she loads her pockets with extra ammo, she reflects on how different her life has become in two short weeks. It went from teaching self-defense and only worrying about starting up her own studio to actually putting her years and years of training into use and worrying about food and water.

Seth grabs the keys to his car and waves for Charlie to follow him. She trots down the stairs after him, a bounce in her step. She can't help but think that everything is worse out there than either of them know. If everything's okay, why have the radio stations started to disappear? She wonders, but she almost doesn't care. Right now she's happy where she is. She's spent every day of the last month goofing off and hunting with her best friend. They're doing really well, they have plenty of food, especially since they started hunting and they have water to last for another three weeks even if they don't find more on the trip to the store. If they don't find water, they'll just have to find a river or creek or something and boil water from it. It can't be that hard. Though she does miss showering, being dirty isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. Besides, Seth's just as disgusting as her and he's the only other person around. He can't really judge her. Everything's going to be okay.

Charlie allows herself a small smile as she slides into the car, shutting the door after her and buckling her seat belt. Seth laughs at her, "It's the end of the world, don't ya know? Seat belts are kind of a moot point when your face is gonna get snacked on."

Charlie shrugs, "Even in the apocalypse your driving is awful enough for me to be concerned," she says blankly.

Seth looks horrified, "Take that back," he demands.

Charlie snorts playfully, "No way," she retorts, "it's true."

Seth shoots her a moody frown, "You wound me," her mutters dramatically as he turns the key in the ignition.

Charlie reaches over to clap him on the back, "That's okay. Just think about that beautiful buck we saw yesterday and you'll feel better."

Seth sends her a glare as he shifts the car into drive, "You mean the one you scared away with one of those earth-shattering sneezes of yours?"

Charlie bites back guilty snicker, "Yeah, that one. But you know I only sneezed because I got a whiff of your stench." That was only partly true, she actually only smelt herself. So it was a stench, just one that belonged to her.

Seth laughs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "I don't smell that bad," he says weakly in defense.

"Just because you can't smell yourself doesn't mean you don't smell bad," Charlie says flatly.

Seth turns the car down the dirt road, starting the long, slow journey to the main road. "You have no room to talk. You smell like you've been rolling in skunk carcasses."

"You're not supposed to point it out!" Charlie gasps, pointing at him.

Seth grins, happy to have the accusations turned on Charlie, "Whatever you say, skunky."

Charlie unhappily lets the argument die, knowing that she doesn't have anything to say to recover from that last one. Instead, she settles in for the thirty minute ride, kicking her worn and filthy running shoes off before curling her legs under her. Those shoes are the same ones she vomited on the day she and Seth evacuated the city. Since then she's tromped all over the forest in them, spattered them in animal blood, and stepped into some really gross things. They've definitely earned their keep and they smell exactly as pleasant as one might imagine, sort of like death that was left to liquefy in a plastic bag in the blistering Georgia heat. Seth's car is a relief in that way. It smells like nicer than anything she's smelled in a long time. Like spicy mint with a hint of apple. It's leagues better than her stench, which is now something of a mix between an earthy forest-like scent and spoiled sweat. She's also skinned countless rabbits and squirrels, that has to account for some of the smell.

Charlie takes a slow breath and reclines her seat all the way back, an unexplainable sense of reassurance falling over her as she curls up on the seat and allows her eyes to close for a short nap. Everything is going to be okay. She doesn't know how or when, but she's positive of it.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know I said I was confident that Daryl would be in the third chapter... but apparently I was wrong and it took waaay longer than I anticipated to get this all worked out. Sorry! But I promise, not even I can delay his arrival next chapter! Hope y'all enjoy as always! Drop me a line, I'd love to hear from you!

* * *

"Charlie…" a hand lands on Charlie's shoulder, her eyes immediately slide open, locking onto Seth's face as he leans over her to shake her awake. "Come on, it's time to get up," he says.

"Are we there?" Charlie asks, rubbing her eyes and stretching like a sun-bathed cat.

"Yeah, we just got here. It didn't take as long as I thought," Seth says as he opens his door and steps out. Charlie sits up and looks out the window, her eyes landing on the store Seth had talked about. It's pretty big, about the size of an average supermarket. It's styled to look like an old log cabin with expansive glass windows. Right now Seth's car is sitting in the large mostly empty parking lot, only about a dozen feet from the store. There are only a couple of other cars scattered about. Charlie cracks the door open and grabs her filthy running shoes, pulling them on and tying them securely. Maybe they'll have some proper footgear inside. Finally she steps outside of the car, grabbing her pack and slinging it on her shoulders as she trots after Seth.

"Did you come here a lot?" Charlie asks once they get up to the front of the camping outlet. The door handles are chained and padlocked, but a couple of the huge windows are smashed in. Some of the aisles are lying on the ground, their merchandise crushed and scattered. But, all things considered, it doesn't look like it's been picked over too much. Most of the things are intact.

"Yeah, it's the only store for miles. Dad and I used to come here all the time. It's where we bought the bows and guns… They used to have this hunting arcade game where you would wander around in the woods and shoot at anything that moved. Dad always stopped to play it, even though he said it was harder than actually hunting," Seth's eyes glaze over as he looks at the rundown version of the store from his childhood. Charlie gets the sense that he's not really talking to her anymore, but more to himself just as a reminder that the things he's talking about actually happened.

Charlie smiles sadly and pats his back, "Is there anything here that you always wanted but could never have?" she asks gently, trying to pull him out of his reveries. If he starts thinking too hard about it now, he'll be dead to the world for at least half an hour.

Seth sends her a wavering smile over his shoulder, "I was kind of spoiled," he admits almost sheepishly. "I'm sure they have some really cool hunting knives though," he says weakly.

Charlie grins and thumps his shoulder, "Well, now we get to find out!"

Seth tries to laugh but it really just sounds forced, "I guess you're right."

Guns drawn, the two of them make their way over to the smashed windows and carefully observe the insides of the store. The entire place is eerily still now that Charlie and Seth have stopped talking. Charlie frowns and chews on her lip, she can only imagine what Seth's going through. Seeing this place in such a sad state must be difficult for him. She doesn't want to look at his face, but she can just tell by his rigid posture and breathing. It isn't hard to tell that he's having a hard time regulating his breath. He's trying though, because he knows Charlie can hear. It doesn't work. Trying to act normal very rarely comes across as normal.

Charlie is the first one to make a move, stepping over the low wall where the window used to be. "I think I could definitely use a machete. Do you think they have any?" she asks, doing her best to break Seth out of whatever trance he's in.

She doesn't seem to be having much luck.

Seth silently follows her over the low wall, sticking as close to her as her own shadow. He doesn't answer her question, and Charlie knows instinctively that he'll be like this for a while. All she can do is look after him and try to make sure he doesn't get in trouble. The last time he did this they were in the middle of a hunting excursion and he stopped paying attention to what he was doing, scaring every animal for miles. She hopes it doesn't happen again.

First things first, they need to find water. Hopefully this place should have some. It might have cases or jugs of water, but they should at least have bottled water in vending machines or in the little refrigerators next to the cash registers. "Okay, Seth," Charlie says, turning to face him. "We're looking for water, remember?" she says, trying to gently pull him out of whatever state of mind he's fallen into.

Seth nods, causing Charlie to grin radiantly, happy to have gotten any response at all. She and Seth make their way to the cash registers, and like she thought, all 12 of them have little refrigerators connected to them. It's a welcome sight. She unzips her empty backpack and pries one of the fridges open. It's filled with mostly soft drinks that were sure to taste awful at this point, but there are still bottles of water mixed in. She would fill her bag with water first, then come back for the soft drinks. She grabs all the water she can get her hands on, stuffing the bottles into the huge backpack she brought with her. She cleans all of the water out of the first fridge and moves on to the next fridge. She's able to cram three fridges worth of water bottles into her hiking backpack, about 48 bottles in total.

Charlie zips the gaping mouth of the pack with some difficulty and turns to Seth. "Will you take this to the car and bring an empty bag back?" she asks, hefting the heavy bag into his arms.

Seth robotically wraps his arm around the pack, nodding without meeting her eyes. She feels a little guilty asking him to do this when he's so clearly distressed, but she needs help. Besides, the car's parked close enough to spit on. There's no way he can get into trouble in that short distance. "I'm going to be in the knives section!" she calls after him as an afterthought. If he hears he doesn't show it.

Charlie scans the signs that hang from the roof, labeling the sections. Unfortunately, they don't have a sign that says, 'Knives,' but 'Outdoor Sports,' sounds good. Knifing things is an outdoor sport, right? Holding onto that thought, she follows the sign all the way to the back of the store.

Once Charlie reaches that section, it's immediately apparent that she chose incorrectly. Instead of knives, she finds tennis rackets, footballs, volley ball nets, and baseball bats. She's getting ready to curse her luck and move on when her eyes catch sight of an interesting bat. It's a bright metallic purple with 'MISFORTUNE,' scrawled across it in acid green stylized letters. It has supple black leather wrapped around the handle, and Charlie can't help but pick it up. She grips the material tightly, a small smile coming to her face. In high school she had been on the softball team for a week before her father made her quit. Good thing they taught her how to hold it during that week.

Charlie frowns and rolls the bat in her fingers. That was over 17 years ago. She sullenly moves to put the bat back where it belongs.

CRACK!

A gunshot rings out and nearly startles Charlie into dropping the bat. Her eyes widen and before she's even fully aware of what that gunshot could entail, she's sprinting to the front of the store. She prays to any god that will listen, '_Please don't let Seth be hurt._' As she rounds the corner of an aisle, her eyes fall on the cause of the gunshot. There are infected people completely surrounding the car. That's where Seth is supposed to be.

Charlie's mind flies into a panic. She pushes herself to run faster, an animalistic fear pumping through her veins. She leaps over the low wall where the window used to be without even breaking her stride. Seth has to be okay, he just has to. If he's not okay, then she doesn't know what she's going to do.

Charlie sprints right up to the back of the crowd of infected people, who have yet to notice her, and cracks her bat against the head of one. It splits open like an overripe melon and the infected person crumples. She's incredibly thankful she hadn't put the bat up like she intended before the gunshot sounded. A couple of the crowd turns to face Charlie, their gaping maws and dead eyes unnerving her. But nothing scared her more than the thought of losing Seth. He's surrounded by infected, not to mention he's not in the right state of mind. Her hand twitches towards the gun on her belt, but she can't chance it. She might hit Seth. Instead she raises her bat again and swings it with all her force, smashing it across the head of another infected person. It goes down, and another replaces it.

Charlie isn't aware of much, aside from Misfortune swinging and infected people going down. In mid-swing, an infected person lunges at her and catches her off guard, throwing her to the ground. She manages to hold it off with Misfortune, its caved-in, rotten mouth inches away from her nose. With her hands wrapped around both ends of Misfortune, it's just like bench-pressing. Only, instead of straight up, she pushes to the side, throwing the infected person off of her. She quickly rolls to her feet, lashing out with the side of her foot and kicking the infected person's head as hard as she can manage. To top it off, she brings Misfortune down upon it, the skull collapsing beneath it with a wet crunch.

Charlie's eyes snap over to Seth, noticing that the infected person she just killed was the last. There are three men she's never seen before standing in the middle of all the infected bodies. They aren't her concern right now. Misfortune slips from her grasp and clatters to the ground. She sprints to Seth, grabbing him by the forearms and hastily checking him over for fresh blood. He's covered in gore, but it's black and rancid. "Are you okay?" she asks, not even waiting for an answer as she begins to pat him down, her fingers feeling for wounds. "I'm so sorry, Seth! I shouldn't have sent you out here alone!" she says, immediately launching into an apology, still checking for injuries.

Seth wraps his fingers around her wrists. "I'm fine," he says, smiling weakly. He looks a little shell-shocked, but he's smiling. "It's okay, you didn't know."

Charlie swallows thickly. "I should've went with you. I shouldn't have let you go alone," she whispers, guilt eating a hole in her stomach. She had almost gotten him killed.

"I'm okay. Everything's alright," Seth says quietly, trying to reassure her. It doesn't work.

Charlie turns her gaze on the three men standing awkwardly behind her. "Who are y'all?" she asks, a smattering of venom coating her words. There's an Asian boy who seems to be in his late-teens to early twenties, a middle aged Hispanic man and a black-haired man wearing a plain brown T-shirt with 'police,' written across the left side of his chest.

The 'police officer,' steps forward. "My name's Shane, this is Glenn," he says, gesturing to the Asian, who waves awkwardly in response, "and Morales," this time he gestures to the Hispanic man, who nods respectfully at Charlie. "We saw your friend struggling with a walker, so we shot it. The sound drew more."

"My name's Charlie and this is Seth," Charlie says, pointing at Seth. "Thank you so much for helping him," she mutters, ashamed for putting him in a situation where he needed help. She knew he wasn't at a hundred percent, yet she still asked him. If anything had happened, it would've fallen on her shoulders.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," Shane says, inclining his head politely. "I couldn't help but notice, the car doesn't look like you've been living in it. It's too clean. Y'all got somewhere you're holdin' up?"

"We've been staying at my family's hunting cabin," Seth reveals, causing Charlie to grimace. She had hoped he would've kept that to himself. She didn't trust these people yet.

"Hunting cabin?" Morales repeats, his tone curious.

Shane glances at Morales, catching onto what the Hispanic man was implying. "Y'all hunters?" he asks, his face carefully neutral.

"Is there a reason you want to know?" Charlie asks, stepping in front of Seth before he can open his mouth this time.

Shane shrugs, "We got a big camp, be nice to have a couple more hunters. We could keep you safe, and you could help keep our people fed."

"Sounds like you got a couple already," Charlie says bluntly, shifting her weight as her eyes scan for the vehicle they must've used to get to this place. She wants to know which direction they came from.

"The Dixons are a pair of time bombs. I'd like to get people more… stable on food detail," Shane says, causing Charlie's eyes to narrow at what he said about his own people. "Besides, we could always use more food. It's going to be a tough winter if we don't get rescued."

"How do you know I'm better than the Dixons?" Charlie asks snippily, extremely wary of these strangers and their 'camp,' "What if I'm worse and you're inviting a murderer into your camp?"

Shane smiles a little, amusement shining in his eyes. "I don't think you'd ask that question if you were a murderer. 'Sides, I can already tell you ain't worse than the Dixons."

Charlie's figurative hackles rise at his words. If she was a cat, her tail would resemble a pipe cleaner. "Oh yeah, and how do you know that?" she spits, angry at him for making assumptions.

Shane laughs as if her anger is there for his own personal amusement. "Well… for starters you haven't tried to stab anyone yet. You also haven't brought Morales or Glenn's race up."

Charlie pauses, caught off guard by the statement. Some of her anger slips away unnoticed. She cocks an eyebrow at Shane, still glaring at him. "The fuck would I do that?" she asks, moving her gaze to the two men standing slightly behind Shane.

"See? You're not a racist, you're not a murderer, and you know how to hunt," Shane says, counting on his fingers as he speaks.

"You only assume we know how to hunt. You don't know," Charlie states.

"If y'all really weren't hunters, you wouldn't've waited so long to deny it," Shane says bluntly. He points at the open pack with water bottles scattered around it from when it was dropped. "You don't have a source of fresh water and there are only two of you," he says, causing Charlie's entire body to tense. Was he threatening them? Before she can think on it anymore, he continues speaking, "We need you. We have women and children to feed and nonperishables only do so much. It looks like you need us too."

"Why?" Charlie asks softly, feeling her resolve crumble at the mention of children. Her favorite Taekwondo classes to teach were the ones with children in them. "Why do we need you?"

"We have a source of fresh water for drinking, bathing, and laundry. We also have over 20 people at our camp, meaning we have a better chance of someone coming to rescue us," Shane says, his eyes sliding over to Seth. He had been talking mostly to Charlie, but he knew Seth had a big part in the decision too.

Seth frowns, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder, "I think we should go, Charlie. He's right. There's no water close enough to the cabin to use. Besides, there are people there who aren't trying to eat us," he whispers. He tries to keep the pleading tone out of his voice, but she can see right through him. He really wants to go, evidenced by the way his hand tightens nervously around her shoulder.

That's the final nail in the coffin and Charlie sighs, finally assenting to joining Shane's group. "Fine, if you really want us to join your group, you'll wait here until we get back with our stuff," she commands, staring Shane straight in the eye. If he just thinks he can just appear out of nowhere and try to commandeer control over her situation, then he has another thing coming. She and Seth are going to their camp, but he's still not in charge of either of them. That much is for sure.

Shane cocks an eyebrow at her tone, "Well, I'm sure with three extra pairs of hands you could gather your stuff a lot faster," he says in a placating manner.

"We don't have much, it won't take long," Charlie shoots back immediately, grabbing Seth's arm and gently pulling him towards the car.

Shane watches them, tucking his thumbs into his thick police-issue belt and shifting his weight to emphasize the gun on his belt. "How do I know you're not going to go get more firepower and attack us?"

Charlie pivots on her heel to turn her entire body to look at him, not comfortable with talking to him while her back's turned. "How do I know you're not going to get more people from your camp while we're gone?!" she asks in swift indignant retaliation.

Shane snorts a short laugh, "Well, looks like we both have reason to suspect the other. How 'bout we make a deal? I'll send one of my men with you to help pack, and one of you stay here, to help round up supplies."

"That's not fair," Charlie points out immediately. "No matter what, it's going to be two of you against one of us. If one of us stays here, then the two of you will have the advantage if you were to attack. If two go to the cabin with one of us driving, then you could still easily overpower whoever went and take the cabin for yourself," she says, glancing back at Seth to see him frowning. She isn't sure whether it's because she's being so difficult and he just wants to get to that camp already, or whether he sees her point and agrees. Either way, he wants to go to the camp.

Shane rubs the back of his head and sighs, "I don't know what we're gonna do then. We obviously don't trust each other enough for this to work out."

Charlie feels a pang of guilt when she realizes that Shane's on the verge of giving up on them because of her and how difficult she's being. This camp is what Seth wants. "I didn't say I wasn't going to do it. I was just pointing out that it's an unfair arrangement," she says at last. Her eyes rake over Morales, the slightly portly Hispanic man, and Glenn, the awkward Asian teen, trying to glean important information off of them from their appearance alone. '_This is what Seth wants,_' she keeps reminding herself. Obviously, Glenn is more geared towards speed than strength. His arms are pretty thin and he looks like he doesn't really have a mean bone in his body. Or any bones, for that matter, he seems kind of spineless with the way his eyes keep darting around. Morales is a different story in the strength department. He is somewhat overweight, but it's easy to tell he could muster a good bit of power if he tried. He's also a little bit more confident than Glenn, his eyes focused on Charlie instead of everywhere. At least, they were until she stared back. When her eyes met his, they dropped to the ground and he tried to pretend he wasn't staring.

Lastly, Charlie's eyes turn on Shane. He is obviously the main threat if anything happens. He's about as muscular as Seth, though not as tall, with thick arms and a well-muscled torso. His eyes are a sharp dark brown, always locking onto minute movements that would otherwise be lost on others. His nose is wide and crooked, tell-tale signs of multiple breaks and re-breaks. Even the way the man stands screams, 'alpha male.' He stands with his feet wide a part, hips pushed forward a little to emphasize his crotch (an animalistic gesture, really), and thumbs hooked into his belt, once again emphasizing his crotch.

Shane's controlling, alpha male, 'my way or the highway,' nature is the exact reason he and Charlie are going to have a big problem.

At last, Charlie reaches a decision. "If this is going to happen, I want him," she points at Morales, "and him," then Glenn, "to go with Seth while you," this time she points at Shane, "and I stay here for supplies." Seth could easily deal with Glenn and Morales if anything came up. She knew he was more than capable of defending himself. Shane is the real threat. She's much more comfortable knowing that she's going to be the one left alone with him instead of Seth.

"I thought you didn't have a lot of stuff?" Shane counters, shifting his weight again in almost a literal translation of the saying, 'throwing his weight around.' "So why doesn't Glenn stay here and search?" The cold, calculating look on his face tells her he knew exactly how that ruined her plan. It sounded like an innocent suggestion, if she turns it down it will cause more suspicion. She spares Seth a glance over her shoulder. He's looking considerably more upbeat than before, completely unaware of the mental war being waged between Charlie and Shane. He seems to just be happy that everything's being worked out.

Charlie swallows thickly, hating the feeling of being backed into a corner. But Seth looked happy enough with that arrangement. "Fine," she relents at last. "Morales will go with Seth and the three of us will stay here." Morales doesn't look too pleased with this new development, but he doesn't say anything. It's likely that he sees Seth as intimidating and is nervous about being alone with him. Seth is unusually tall and very well-muscled. The thought almost entices a smile from Charlie; Seth couldn't be intentionally intimidating if his life depended on it. The man worked with small children for a living for goodness sake. Or, well, used to, however that goes in the apocalypse.

In Charlie's humble opinion, _she's_ the one of which to be weary. Apparently Shane saw it too, that's why he wanted Glenn to stay as well. If either of them were to try something, it'd be her and not Seth. Not that she's going to, of course, Seth wants this too badly for her to screw it up on purpose. Now if Shane or Glenn were to try anything, it'd be an entirely different story. But Shane's the one who wants them to join the camp, and Glenn seems to be pretty harmless. Everything might actually work out.

"Alright," Shane says slowly, "sounds like we've got ourselves a deal."

Morales and Seth load up into Seth's car while Charlie, Shane, and Glenn watch. Then Seth hands Charlie an empty pack and before anyone can change their minds, they're gone. The three that stayed behind watch until the blue car is completely out of sight before turning to each other.

Charlie sighs, trying to put aside some of her aggressive mistrust. "I don't know about the two of you," she begins, rubbing the worn soles of her running shoes against the ground, "but I could really use some new shoes."

Glenn seems to perk up immediately at her civil, almost conversational tone. "I, uh, I know where the shoe section is… if you want," he says, smiling hesitantly.

Charlie tries to smile, but it only comes out as a tired tug of her lips. "That'd be nice," she says, attempting to reassure herself that Seth would be okay with Morales. The only one in this situation that has shown any hostility is Charlie herself. She understands that they have more reason to be suspicious of her than the other way around. She can't help it though, and it's not going to stop her worrying. "Lead the way," she says, gesturing at the broken window and slinging the empty pack on her shoulder.

Glenn nods, the glass crunching under his shoes as he steps inside the store, Charlie at his heels, and Shane at hers. He leads her through the deserted building to the back corner, where a couple meager racks of boots were on display. Shane had stopped following them somewhere along the way, she notices, glancing behind herself.

"How many times have you come here before?" Charlie asks as she starts grabbing at the boxes of shoes and pawing through them. They were mostly men's work boots, but if she could find some that fit she would be happy enough. They were ridiculously durable and most of them had steel toes. That would come in handy, seeing as she tried to kick an infected person's skull in twice out of the three times she came in contact with them. First Mr. Foster and then that infected person that tackled her outside the store.

"Only a couple times," Glenn replies, shrugging. "It's closer than some of the other places but it usually doesn't have all the things we need."

Charlie nods in understanding, "Makes sense, I guess this place doesn't have much food. Not the canned stuff anyway."

Glenn shrugs again, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, "Not really. It did have a bunch of beef jerky though," he says sheepishly.

Charlie breathes a quiet laugh, "Seth said it would have that," she comments, pulling a box off of the shoe rack. Inside is a plain pair of women's work boots made of dark leather. Charlie pulls one of the boots out and pushes down on the toe, and it doesn't give in the slightest. They're a little heavy, but if she went for her morning runs in them she'd get used to the weight in no time.

"I, uh, don't mean to pry, but what's the connection between you two? Is he your husband?" Glenn asks, following her over to a bench so she can try them on.

Charlie laughs, "No, he's not my husband. He's just a really good friend I've had for a long time," she explains, sitting down and pulling the shoes out of the box. Glenn sits down on a bench opposite of Charlie's.

"Oh," is all Glenn has to say. A moment of silence passes awkwardly as Charlie finishes lacing up the boots. She stands up and taps the toe of the boot on the ground a couple times, trying to get it to settle into a comfortable position. Finally satisfied, she walks up and down the aisle a couple times. They feel good, she's sure once they're broken in they'll be even more comfortable.

"Do… Do you have anyone you're looking for?" Glenn asks, breaking the silence.

Charlie shakes her head, "No, I don't," she says resolutely, rocking back in forth in the boots to get more of a feel for them.

"Oh… OH! I'm sorry… I shouldn't have asked," Glenn murmurs, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"It's fine," Charlie says, shrugging. "I don't really have anyone to miss anyway." It's awkwardly quiet for a long time before Charlie returns his earlier question. "Do you have anyone you're looking for?"

Glenn shakes his head, "No, I'm kind of on my own."

Charlie nods sympathetically. She can relate, but at least she has Seth. She's not entirely alone in this strange, new terrifying world. "This group of yours… what is it like?" She asks, steering the subject away from their collective lack of family.

Glenn shrugs, glancing to the side, "Big, I guess. Most of the people are just there to wait out whatever's going on. I don't have much contact with a lot of them."

Charlie hums in understanding, "Well, what about the Dixons? Are they really as bad as Shane seems to think?"

Glenn frowns, "Well, yeah… They're pretty bad. Merle's usually drunk or… high, I guess. I don't know. I can't tell the difference. He's really, uh, loud, no matter what. Daryl keeps to himself most of the time, he's the one who hunts for everyone. He doesn't really talk unless he's telling people what to do."

"Shane said they were racist," Charlie reminds him, wanting to hear more about the Dixons. Any information on them would help her prepare.

"Yeah…" Glenn pauses to cringe distastefully, "they are. Jacqui and T-Dog get the worst of it, though. They only call me names whenever they want my attention, which isn't often, thankfully."

"Who are Jacqui and T-Dog?" Charlie questions, heading to where she hopes she'll find the knife section, Glenn following behind her.

"Jacqui and T-Dog are two of the people in our camp. They're black and that's why the Dixons mess with them so much," Glenn explains. "I guess T-Dog gets the worst of everyone, they seem to go easier on Jacqui since she's a girl an' all…"

"There's no excuse for being a racist, especially in the apocalypse," Charlie mutters, more than positive that she and the Dixons aren't going to get along well. She just hopes she won't have to associate with them much. Coming down off of her soap box, Charlie sighs, "Do you happen to know where the knives are?" She asks at last, realizing she has no idea.

"Oh, uh, yeah, this way," Glenn says, taking her along a slightly different route than she was following. Soon enough, after a short somewhat awkward journey, a glass case with a register comes into view. On display are several different kinds of knives. They're nothing extreme, mostly just plain skinning knives. That's probably why it hasn't been looted. There's another glass case next to it, but that one has been smashed in and all of its previous contents taken. It probably had guns in it, though it doesn't look like there were very many to begin with.

Charlie trots up to the display case and runs her fingers over the dusty surface. The glass doesn't look too thick, and she'd rather inspect the knives up close than window shop. Her mind decided, she glances around, looking for some kind of cloth or blunt object.

"How are you gonna break that?" Glenn asks, walking up to glass case.

Charlie spots a rack of hunting vests, "Hold on," she mutters, making her way over to the rack to grab a vest. It's made of thick canvas material with some sort of water proofing quality to it. It'll work perfectly. As she walks back to the case, she carefully wraps the vest around the crook of her elbow, making sure it has even coverage. "You might want to stand back," she advises Glenn, securing the vest so that it won't fall off.

"What are you doing?!" Glenn asks, slightly panicked as he hastily obeys her suggestion to get back.

Charlie doesn't answer him, instead raising her padded elbow and then smashing it into the glass counter. The counter gives under the blow, shattering and falling over the merchandise like a demented sort of rain. She takes a couple steps back and starts to unwind the vest, glass being shaken out of it as she does. Once she removes it, she tosses it to the ground. Her elbow tingles, but that's the only side-effect so far.

"You're crazy," Glenn states, watching her pick through the knives from a healthy distance.

Charlie shrugs and continues to inspect the knives for quality as well as she can with her inexperienced eye. "If crazy's what it takes, then that's okay," she says, picking up a rather interestingly shaped skinning knife and tapping it on the metal skeleton of the former glass counter. Shards of glass jump off of the blade and fall back into the case. She doesn't really know what makes a knife a good skinning knife, so she grabs two of each style and shakes the glass off of them before placing them into a pocket of her pack. Leaning over the counter, she digs deeper, trying to move the shelf to see if there's anything under it. She pushes on the shelf, and surprisingly, it moves under her fingers, revealing a whole new set of knives. These are more combat-geared. Smiling, she begins to load them into her pack along with a couple leather sheaths and holsters.

Charlie steps away from the counter and pats her clothes down; trying to make sure she didn't get any glass on her. "Alright," she says, dusting her hands off. "Is there anywhere you wanted to go?" She asks Glenn, satisfied with her haul of knives.

"No," Glenn says simply. "I'm sure Shane's already got it covered…" he pauses to think for a moment before shrugging, "I guess you'd need a tent if you didn't have one… a sleeping bag, too."

Charlie feels a belated twinge of regret for agreeing to join the group, realizing that this camp does not have actual beds like the hunting cabin does. She nods, "Okay, take me there," she says at last. She gets the feeling looking for a tent and a sleeping bag won't be as fun as ransacking the knives section.

* * *

Charlie, Glenn and Shane finished gathering everything they needed for the camp before Seth and Morales got back. Shane seemed to like spending his time interrogating Charlie as they lounged in the merciful shade provided by the roof in front of the store. She tolerated his questions, if somewhat impatiently, and returned them with her own. Really, he only repeated the questions Glenn asked earlier and then moved onto her spotless criminal record—not that he believed her when she told him. She didn't mind the disbelief, she had a healthy amount of skepticism in him too. Glenn turned out to be exactly as harmless as she had predicted though. Least he's nice. He did help her find the shoes, knifes, tents, and sleeping bags. She took the liberty of picking a tent and sleeping bag for Seth, too.

Finally, after Shane ran out of questions, they lapsed into silence. The bodies of the infected people from earlier were still where they left them, in addition the bodies of a couple more stragglers that were stumbling in front of the store when Charlie, Shane, and Glenn were coming out. No doubt the gun shot drew them.

It smelled like death, there's no other way to explain it. Just imagine more than 20 bodies frying on asphalt in the Georgia heat, and that horrific scent is exactly what the scent of death is in this situation. It's a cloying scent that overpowers everything and clings to clothes with the determination of a baited bull.

But that still isn't enough to turn Charlie's stomach away from food. She hasn't eaten since breakfast, and it had to be sometime after 5 PM now. Seth and Morales better be on their way already.

"How long did you say the drive took?" Shane asks for the third time, his arm propped up on his knee as he reclines against the side of the building.

Charlie breathes a sigh. She already told him she was asleep during the drive. "I don't know. It takes a long time to get down that dirt road, so 40 minutes?"

"You don't sound very sure," Shane says, flicking a piece of gravel. It skitters across the ground until it collides with the crushed skull of an infected person.

"I'm not," Charlie says bluntly. "I was asleep when we drove here."

"There they are!" Glenn says quickly, interfering with whatever Shane was going to say.

Charlie's on her feet before the other two, waiting for them to get close enough for her to see inside the car. It takes a few moments but eventually her eyes make out Seth's silhouette. Her shoulders sag a little with the relief of seeing him unharmed. Morales is with him too, a bonus, she supposes.

The car stops in front of them and Seth and Morales step out. "What was the hold up?" Charlie calls, smiling despite herself.

"We have A LOT of stuff," Seth says, jerking his thumb at the car. "I didn't know what things you wanted either, so it was really hard to pack for you."

Charlie realizes for the first time that there's a chance not all of her belongings made it into the car. She shrugs, "I'm sure you did fine." She isn't too concerned, Seth knows her too well to leave anything that's absolutely vital. Besides, another trip can be made if necessary.

"Alright," Shane says, standing up, "Y'all ready to go?" He asks.

"We are if you are," Seth agrees, ducking back into the car.

"We parked a ways down the road," Shane says, pointing in the opposite direction Seth and Morales had drove in from. "Didn't want to stir up whatever walkers were in the area with the engine."

"Walkers?" Charlie repeats curiously, wondering what he was referring to. He used the term earlier, and she's pretty positive that he's talking about the infected people, but she'd like a little clarity on that matter.

"Those guys," Shane says, pointing the group of rotting bodies. "We call 'em walkers."

"I like it, it's simple," Charlie comments thoughtfully, mentally adding the term to her vocabulary. She stares at the pile of bodies until a flash of neon purple catches her gaze. She walks a little closer to investigate, only to find the bat from earlier, Misfortune, lying among the dead. She stares at it for longer than necessary before picking it up and taking it back with her to where Seth's car is sitting, still running. It helped her tremendously earlier, only feels right to take it with her.

"We can give you a ride, but someone will have to sit in a lap," Seth says once Charlie reaches the group again, bringing the topic back up, "we had to use some of the backseat for food."

Almost simultaneously, all eyes turn to Charlie, who sighs in reaction. "Seriously? I smell awful, nobody's gonna want me in their lap," she states. Shane, Morales and Glenn all have a look of sheepishness, though in varying degrees, but they don't stop staring at her expectantly. "Like, no showers for a month awful," she elaborates, hoping to turn some of the eyes away from her. They aren't deterred.

Finally Glenn shrugs, "If it's not you, it's me since I'm the next smallest, and no one wants that. You're a girl, and that's always better than having a man sit on your lap, no matter what…" he mutters, trailing off at the end.

Charlie shifts her weight uncomfortably, "Can't you just drop them off and then come pick me up?" she asks pleadingly, rubbing her arm self-consciously. Her skin feels like its crawling.

Seth frowns at her, "Would you let me stay here alone?" he asks, his tone taking on an accusing property.

Charlie rubs her eyes in exasperation, "No, I wouldn't let you stay here alone," she admits.

"Then you can't expect me to let you stay here alone," he says in return.

Charlie takes a deep breath and tries to calm her nerves, "Okay…" she hesitantly agrees, still trying to rub away the tingling sensation. "But you can't say I didn't warn you about the smell."

It takes a couple minutes, but they're able to make a seating arrangement, at last. Morales gets shotgun, since he's the largest, and because it's Seth's car, Seth gets to drive. In the back seat Glenn's in the middle, because he's second smallest of the group as stated earlier, and in the seat next to the door it's Shane and Charlie, with Charlie sitting on Shane's lap. She's not very happy with how it worked out. She takes solace in the fact that he probably isn't either, at least since she accidentally kicked his shin earlier with her new extremely heavy boots while getting in the car. Then he had to deal with the scent of a month's worth of body odor, dead animal, and walker juice. Glenn had to as well, but at least the source of the stench wasn't sitting on his lap.

The ride to their car is only a minute long, but it feels like an agonizingly long minute to Charlie. She didn't want to get any closer to Shane than necessary, so she sat as far away from him as possible. That's an unsurprisingly short distance, considering she's sitting across his knees. It doesn't keep her from trying not to touch him.

When the car comes to a complete stop, Charlie has to refrain herself from throwing the door open and taking a flying leap from the car. Instead, she allows Shane to open the door and forces herself to calmly slide out so that the other two passengers can get out as well. Only when all three of them climb into their own car, a station wagon that has seen better days, does Charlie fully relax and get back into Seth's car. Her heart feels like a humming bird, keeping a ridiculously fast tempo. She starts to wring her hands together, but after realizing what she's doing she awkwardly lets them drop into her lap. She takes a deep breath and lets it go, calming down slightly.

"Everything's going to be okay," Seth reassures her, patting her shoulder.

Charlie laughs weakly, "I know. This camp is going to be good for us."

"There's other people there, and food, and water, and protection… I think we're going to be happy there," Seth grins.

Charlie tries to grin back only to find that her emotional reserves only have enough energy left for a smile. "You're right…" she agrees, nodding her head. "I think we're going to be very happy there." At the very least, Seth is going to be happy. She's going to make sure of it, even if it takes everything she has.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey guys! So Charlie and Daryl finally meet in this one and all I have to say is that it's definitely love at first sight... Haha, no. No it's not. That was a lie. It's definitely something though! Hope you enjoy!

Also, if you could take the time to leave a review, I would be incredibly grateful! I'm already working on the next chapter and, believe me, it's a crazy one. Reviews make my heart sing~

* * *

The camp is situated in an abandoned rock quarry, with cars and tents strewn about in no real order. There are people milling about and most of the activity seems to be centered around an old RV. It's about 6 in the evening now, so most of them are starting fires for dinner. Charlie doesn't know what to make of it all. The camp gives off an odd feel of a disjointed community, like pieces of different puzzles forced to fit together. Most of the heads turned at the sound of the cars driving up, but they didn't really seem to be too interested for the most part. Except for two women who set aside the food they were preparing and come forward to wait for the station wagon, their children excitedly jittering in front of them. They're all smiles. When the station wagon finally comes to a full stop and the engine's shut off, the kids happily run forward to meet the people getting out of the station wagon. They all seem to be around the same age, 8-12, but Charlie isn't quite sure. It's obvious that two of the children are Morales's, a boy and a girl, evidenced by the way that they tackle him with hugs as he exits the car. The other child, a boy, runs up to Shane and immediately begins chattering excitedly.

The reunion is warm and even manages to pull a smile out of Charlie. Seth parks his car behind the station wagon and kills the engine, sending the pair into silence. She doesn't really know what to do, whether to get out and start unpacking her belongings or to wait. She glances at Seth to see what he's doing, but he's already staring at her, equally unsure of what to do. They exchange shrugs and simultaneously reach for the door handles, popping their doors open.

Shane turns to them and smiles, gesturing towards the camp, "Well, here we are, home sweet home."

At the sight of the newcomers, a couple people wander closer, coming to investigate. The mothers of the children also come forward, Morales's wife embracing him in a hug. The other woman, the boy's mother, stares curiously at Seth and Charlie. Shane notices, and gestures for her to come closer, "This is Lori," he introduces, "she's Carl's mother," as he says this he lays a hand on top of the freckled boy's head. "Lori, Carl, this is Charlie and Seth. We found them on our supply run and asked them to come back with us. They're hunters," Shane says, turning back to the station wagon and starting to unload the supplies from it along with Glenn and some other men from the camp.

"Why's your name Charlie if you're a girl?" Carl asks innocently, "Isn't that a boy's name?" His question causes Seth to laugh and nudge Charlie in the ribs with his elbow.

"Carl!" Lori sharply admonishes, "That's very rude, you shouldn't ask that. People can't help what they're named."

Charlie laughs softly, "That's okay. He's right, Charlie is a boy's name. It's just a nickname, though."

"What's your real name, then? And are you really a hunter? I thought only boys hunted," Carl says in a matter-of-fact manner, causing Lori to laugh nervously and pull him into her side.

"I'm sorry," Lori apologizes on behalf of her son, "Carl's a little too curious sometimes," she says, looking down on him. "Aren't you?" she asks firmly, frowning at him. Carl only frowns back and shrugs, looking a little petulant.

"No, it's okay. My real name's Charlotte. But my dad didn't like that much, so he started calling me Charlie," Charlie explains to Carl. "I don't really know if I qualify as a hunter or not yet," she says honestly, her cheeks warming a little with the revelation. "I've only been hunting about a month or so, Seth's teaching me," she says, jerking a thumb at Seth.

"Will you teach me how to hunt?" Carl asks Seth, pulling away from Lori to beam at Seth.

"Nooo, definitely not," Lori immediately answers, drawing out the 'o,' several syllables as she tugs Carl back into her embrace. "You're too young, you could get hurt."

Seth smiles apologetically, "Sorry, dude, but you heard your mom."

Carl's face falls in disappointment as Lori squeezes his shoulder, "Well, it was nice meeting y'all, but he and I have to go finish preparing dinner, don't we?" she asks Carl, giving him a look that Charlie imagined meant the little boy would receive a firm talking to later.

"It was nice meeting you too," Seth says. Charlie nods in agreement, half-smiling as she watches Lori basically drag Carl away by the ear.

An older man with graying hair and a kind smile steps forward, pulling his worn fishing hat off his head with one hand and holding out the other to Seth. "Hello, my name's Dale," he greets, shaking Seth's hand before offering his hand to Charlie. She shakes his hand firmly, giving him a small smile. "It's good to meet you two, it's always nice to see new faces," Dale smiles.

Seth laughs, his eyes crinkling with the size of his grin. "It's nice to meet you, too. This camp is incredible, there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Dale pats Seth on the shoulder, "Lot of good people here, it's a good place," he says. "If either of y'all ever need anything, you can come to the RV and I'll do my best to help you out," he points at the RV Charlie had seen while driving up before giving them both a pat on the shoulder and retreating to his RV.

Charlie rubs her eyes tiredly, more than ready to set her tent up, get a little food in her belly, and go to sleep. Meeting so many people in one day after a month without any interaction with anyone but Seth is, well, very disorientating to say the least. She also wants to take a bath. That might have to come before sleeping, she doesn't want to get her new sleeping bag dirty the first time she sleeps in it. If she's lucky she has two hours of daylight left. She should hurry and get her tent set up and then try to get a bath in.

"Shane?" Charlie calls softly as he retrieves something else from the station wagon. "Where should we put our tents?"

"Huh?" Shane pulls away from where he was unloading supplies, "Oh, tents, right. Uh, well, I don't really know of any place that's clear except over where the Dixons are. They're on the outskirts of camp next to the forest since they go huntin' so often," he says, scratching his head. "I'd s'pose that'd be the best place to put the two of you. It might be more convenient that way."

Charlie inwardly cringes, having heard the stories from Glenn. But right now she's too tired, hungry and dirty to argue. "Okay, will you show us where that is?" she asks, going around to the back of Seth's car to start grabbing their belongings.

After grabbing the most important bags, the tents, and the sleeping bags, Charlie and Seth follow Shane through the camp to the other side. When they get to the place Shane described, there are two rather rough looking men sitting in front of their tents skinning squirrels and rabbits. They both look up as the trio approaches, very different expressions on their faces. One of them, the younger one, scowls and turns back to his work, ignoring them. The other one catches sight of Charlie and sends a lecherous grin her way, setting his squirrel down and wiping his hands on a red cloth produced from his pocket before making his way over to them.

"I knew you was good for something, officer. Looks like you brought me a liddle present, didn'cha?" the older man smiles, revealing a set of crooked yellow teeth. As he comes closer, Charlie can smell the stench rolling off of him. It's a mixture of spoiled sweat, smoke, and alcohol.

"No, Merle, I did not bring you a present," Shane states firmly, stepping forward to obstruct Merle's path to Charlie. "This is Charlie and Seth, they're hunters as well. They're gonna set their tents up across from y'alls and I don't want to hear anything about you harrassin' them. Is that clear?" Shane asks, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

Merle just grins, clearly letting everything Shane just said roll off his back like water off a duck. "Of course, officer," he says mockingly, raising his hands in false surrender. "We're gonna get ta know each other real well, ain't we sugar?" he says, directing the last bit at Charlie. She ignores his remark. Merle reminded her of some of the men who took her classes, thinking they could woo her with their cheesy pickup lines and crude innuendos. It's nothing she hasn't dealt with before.

Shane frowns, clearly rethinking his choice to put Charlie and Seth with the Dixons. "Are you two gonna be alright here?" he asks, tucking his thumbs into his belt.

Charlie nods curtly, "We're fine, thank you."

Shane frowns, pausing as he considers her words. "…Alright," he says at last, "holler if you need anything," he offers, somewhat reluctantly leaving Charlie and Seth at the mercy of the Dixons.

"We will," Seth agrees, stepping closer to Charlie. "We better get _our_ tent set up before dark, huh?" he says, putting special emphasis on 'our,' making it clear that he and Charlie would be sharing a tent.

Charlie nods, suddenly grateful she had been greedy while picking the tents and grabbed two of the largest, most expensive ones the store had to offer. At least they wouldn't be cramped.

It takes a while, but Charlie and Seth eventually finish putting their tent up. Luckily, shortly after they arrived Merle disappeared into his tent and they haven't seen him since. They move their things inside and roll out their sleeping bags, delightfully discovering they had plenty of space between them. It's relieving, considering they're going to be spending a lot of time together in this tent. Once they're all situated inside, Charlie pulls out a clean set of clothes and grabs the bag filled with her toiletries. She still has clean clothes from when she escaped her apartment. She didn't see the point in changing clothes everyday if she was just going to ruin them with blood and sweat. She made sure to keep a couple changes of clothes clean just in case she and Seth ever got the water in the cabin working again so they could shower. That's not exactly what happened, but close enough. She's going to take a bath today and no one's going to stop her.

Before she exits the tent she stuffs her clothes inside her toiletry bag, which is just a small backpack. It's just in case Merle is out there, she doesn't want to give any indication she is going to go get naked and splash around in a lake. "Gonna go take a bath," she says quietly to Seth.

"Wait! Let me come with you," he says, immediately digging through his belongings to find his own toiletries. At the sight of Charlie's disapproving frown, he rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on! I've never felt more disgusting than now in my whole life and it's going to get dark soon. I have to take one now if I'm going to take one today."

Charlie sighs, he has a good point but it's a little disheartening to watch her alone time go up in smoke. "Okay," she relents, "but we have to hurry, I want to eat soon." She doesn't care about him seeing her naked, or vice versa, the last month has virtually destroyed any lingering barriers between the two of them.

Charlie ducks out of the tent as soon as Seth finishes gathering his things, noticing the other man from earlier is still out there skinning. Daryl, she believes, from what Glenn said. He doesn't seem to be much like Merle. "Sorry to bother you, but could you tell me where y'all do your washing?" she asks, deciding she doesn't care if Merle knows since Seth's coming along.

Daryl looks up from his work, watching her suspiciously with his eyes narrowed in a rather aggressive manner. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked. "It ain't my job to play tour guide for you assholes, ask someone else or find it yerself," he spits at last, his eyes raking over Charlie as if she were some detestable creature to be loathed. She definitely shouldn't have asked.

"Thank you for your time," she says blankly, throwing him a wave over her shoulder as she heads towards the main part of the camp with Seth in tow. She hears Daryl scoff angrily just before she walks out of earshot.

Charlie and Seth walk through the camp, looking for familiar faces to ask assistance. Everything has picked up a little since they got here, dinner preparations going on as well as sleeping preparations starting to be made. The people buzz around like little bees, each has a purpose in a destination in mind, not bothering to pay attention to anything else. Finally, using the RV as some sort of apocalyptic guiding star, she finds a small fire pit with Lori, Carl, Shane, Dale, and a pair of blonde women she hasn't met before.

"Excuse me, but can one of y'all tell me where the washing area is?" Charlie asks, drawing their attention to her.

"So late?" Shane questions, "You only got about an hour of daylight left."

"We'll be okay," Seth reassures Shane, "we haven't had water for baths in weeks. We're kind of anxious," he laughs, Charlie nodding in wholehearted agreement.

"I'll take you," the younger of the blonde women stands up, smiling. "I'm Amy, and this is my sister Andrea," she says, pointing at the other blonde woman sitting next to the fire pit.

Seth grins, "It's nice to meet you, Amy, Andrea. I'm Seth and this is Charlie," he introduces, pointing at Charlie who gives a small smile in response.

"I'll go with you," Andrea says, standing up as well and wiping her hands on her jeans. "It's a bit of a walk."

"Thanks, we appreciate it," Seth says as Amy and Andrea circle around the fire pit to where Charlie and Seth are standing.

"Just be careful," Shane warns.

"We will," Andrea promises, gesturing Seth and Charlie to follow her and Amy.

"Oh, I just remembered. Morales and I grabbed some towels from the cabin," Seth says, pulling his keys out of his pockets. "They're in the car, wait one sec while I go get them," he jogs off, keys jingling in his hand.

After Seth gets back with towels, Amy and Andrea begin to lead them on a path through the forest. The path is pretty well-marked and distinct, making Charlie feel confident she could make her way back on her own if she had to. Along the way, Amy chattered nonstop. In that time, Charlie learned many things about her. Amy's 24, she was on break from college on a road trip with Andrea when people started rising from the dead. Dale found them hitchhiking on the side of the road and rescued them after their car ran out of gas. She likes mermaids and her birthday is in a couple weeks or so, she isn't quite sure. She also liked to talk. She didn't say that, though, Charlie was able to puzzle it out on her own. On someone else, the trait might've been irritating. But for Amy it's endearing. She's a sweet girl.

In the end, the walk only lasted ten minutes, giving Charlie and Seth a good 30 minute wash before they needed to head back to make sure they still had sunlight. It's more than they had even hoped to ask for. The lake water was a pretty blue with a rocky shore.

"We're going to head back now. Do you have everything you need?" Andrea asks. Charlie does a mental check of all of her supplies, she has shampoo, conditioner, body wash, razors, clean clothes and underwear, and the towel Seth brought from the cabin. That should be everything.

"I think so," Charlie replies, looking to Seth to make sure.

Seth nods, "I'm good."

"Alright, you shouldn't have any trouble finding your way back. Just yell if you need anything, we'll probably hear it," Andrea advises, she and Amy making their way back to camp.

Charlie waves distractedly, too busy thinking about how nice it'll be to be clean again. She plonks down on the rocky ground, her fingers stumbling all over themselves in her haste to unlace her boots. "You take first watch," she tells Seth, peeling her socks off and putting them inside her boots.

"Okay," Seth snorts, finding a large rock to sit on, facing away from Charlie and the lake.

Charlie undresses quickly, tossing her clothes thoughtlessly on the ground. There's no way dirt could possibly make those clothes any dirtier than they already are. In fact, it might even be an improvement. She grabs her shampoo and conditioner and wades eagerly into the cool water. It feels amazing after another scorching summer day. She carries about her usual shower-time routine as well as she can in such a drastically different setting. Instead of a smooth tile floor, there are rocks—some of which are very sharp. Instead of a loofa, she uses a circular stone worn smooth by the water to scrub the dirt and filth away. Instead of gently finger-combing shampoo through her long blonde hair, she has to tug and pull at the deeply set knots and scour her scalp with her fingernails. It wasn't quite as greasy as she feared it would be though. After a week or two without showers, her scalp naturally stopped overproducing the oils that causes hair to get greasy. All of her time in the sun had bleached her hair a couple shades lighter than usual. She realizes this only as dirt is washed away, allowing her to see her hair color untainted by filth.

Charlie dunks her head under water one more time to completely rid her scalp of the conditioner. "Okay, I'm getting out to get dressed," she calls to Seth so that the sound of her leaving the water doesn't cause him to turn around to investigate.

"Alright," Seth calls back, not moving from his position.

Charlie finally leaves the water, wringing moisture out of her hair until it stops dripping. She towels off briskly, getting dressed in the tank top and jeans she brought with her. She had forgotten what a chore it is to pull jeans on with wet skin. She also brought a plain button up shirt as well, but she's still too wet to bother with trying to pull it on. "Okay, I'm decent," she says.

"Finally," Seth grumbles, leaving his rock. "I thought you were never gonna be done."

Charlie shrugs, smiling as she repacks her toiletry bag. "The water feels amazing, I would've stayed longer if I could," she sighs, combing her fingers through her hair. She goes over to the rock Seth had been sitting on and takes a seat herself, listening to the sounds of Seth getting ready to get in the water.

"The people here are pretty nice," Seth comments.

Charlie shrugs, "Yeah, they are," she agrees. It's an insincere sentiment, but it's easily glossed over with a slight change in the pitch of her voice. The rest of Seth's bath is spent with Charlie listening to the sound the water makes as Seth washes and the crickets chirping. It's relaxing, almost cathartic. It sounds like safety.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey guys, it's been a while, I know. I'm sorry! Hope y'all forgive me and enjoy the chapter!

* * *

It has been almost two weeks since Charlie and Seth have been in the camp at the abandoned rock quarry. Of course, they spent more time hunting than actually in the camp, but it's still the same. Glenn was right when he said that the people mostly stayed to themselves. It seemed like everyone was in their own little world until they needed food or supplies. When that happened, they went to Shane or, as which seems more common here recently, Seth and Charlie. They knew who the hunters were, and that they'd have more luck with Seth and Charlie. Charlie could've sworn Christmas came early every time she and Seth returned from a hunt with the way everyone's eyes lit up. It seemed like there were always people coming to them with open hands, begging. They all wanted meat. They had long stopped turning their noses up at squirrel-meat. Their mouths watered for rabbit. They'd kill for venison.

It wasn't an imbalanced trade, though. In turn for meat, they did Seth and Charlie's chores. They were kept in clean clothes at all times, they always had little snacks and candies to munch on, and they had plenty of toiletries. It didn't hurt that everyone in the camp kept on their good side. Well, nearly everyone, the Dixons weren't quite taken with the new residents. That was to be expected though.

Charlie had just fallen into a comfortable rhythm of living in the camp, when someone threw a wrench into the gears.

Charlie lounges on her sleeping roll, her fingers idly and methodically wiping down one of her hunting arrows, polishing it to a shine. It's her way of relaxing. Seth went and mingled with the other campers. Charlie cleaned weapons. She didn't quite care for the company of the others. They pressed her buttons with their constant bickering and complaining. "It's hot!" "That's mine, you can't use it!" "Stop glaring at me!" That last complaint was usually aimed at Charlie, though. No one was brave enough to tell Daryl that, even if he gave out ten times more glares than Charlie did. No matter how surly Charlie is, at least she hasn't tried to kill anyone. Well, she hasn't so far.

The entrance to the tent is slowly unzipped, causing Charlie to turn her gaze to the now gaping hole in the tent. It's Seth. He steps inside and zips the entrance closed once more. "Hey, I'm going on a supply run with Glenn."

Charlie's hands fall limply, the arrow rolling from her fingers, "What?"

Seth arches an eyebrow at her response, rummaging through his belongings. "Glenn asked me to go with him on a supply run, we're headed to scout out some of the stores on the edge of Atlanta," he elaborates, picking up a pack and beginning to fill it with items.

"Oh," Charlie says lamely, pushing herself up on her elbows. Her stomach clenches nervously, tying itself into endless knots of worry. "Why?"

"We're running low on canned goods," Seth says, still putting things in a pack.

"…I don't think it's a good idea," Charlie says after a couple moments of silence.

Seth pauses, taking her words in. "Why not?" he questions, his hands stilled.

"I just don't," Charlie mutters uneasily, moving into a cross-legged sitting position, "criss-cross applesauce," as she would tell her children classes. "Why don't I go with y'all?" she suggests. She'd do anything to stop her stomach from trying to crawl out of her mouth.

"We're just scouting," Seth says, shrugging, "it's really not that big of a deal."

"So I can come?" Charlie asks, even though she knows very clearly that his response meant, 'no.'

"I don't see why you'd want to," Seth replies flippantly, once more continuing his preparations. "Besides, someone needs to hunt for today."

"The Dixons can," Charlie responds immediately, her mouth going dry.

Seth rolls his eyes, "You know only Daryl hunts. Besides, he just got back from a three day trip. He's not taking another anytime soon."

"Seth," Charlie says his name seriously, staring him straight in the eye, "don't go."

"What's gotten into you, Charlie?" Seth grumbles, "It's a scouting run. We aren't doing anything dangerous. You won't even know I'm gone!"

"I just don't think we should be separated!" Charlie retorts angrily, "You're the only person I have left! Why are you so eager to go running off?!"

Seth sighs, obviously still frustrated, "You're the only person I have left, too," he admits, "but these people need something other than squirrel to eat. I just want to help them."

"You ARE helping them by staying here! We do just as much as anybody to keep this camp fed! Probably more!" Charlie insists, getting angrier. "Why can't someone else go?!"

Seth grits his teeth, "I'm going, and you won't stop me," he states. "I don't know why you're so worried."

"How can I not be worried?!" Charlie snaps. "If anything happens to you, I… I… Damn it, Seth!" She yells, standing up abruptly and flinging the cleaning cloth to the ground. She rips the zipper open and stomps out of the tent, her fingers curling into her hair. She has to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from screaming in frustration. She realizes belatedly that Daryl is sitting across the fire pit from her, watching her with narrowed eyes. Charlie's nose scrunches in anger, her mouth twisting into a sneer, "What?!" she snarls, sure that Daryl had heard her entire argument with Seth.

Daryl's scowls at her, "A little early to be airin' out yer dirty fuckin' laundry, don' ya think?" he asks, using the same tone she had addressed him with. His words confirmed what she already knew. He had heard. This only serves to irritate Charlie even further.

Charlie's mouth opens to say something nasty in retaliation, but she's interrupted by a large hand landing on her shoulder. She whirls around, ready to tear into whoever's touching her, only to find that the hand belongs to Seth. He's looking down on her, his face tense. "Calm down," he huffs in a chastising manner, shoving something into her hand. "Keep that safe until I get back," he mutters, shouldering his pack and brushing past her. Charlie's fingers squeeze painfully tight around the object in her hand, ready to chunk it at Seth's head and continue her tantrum, but she's distracted by the feel of the item. It had dug into her skin when she squeezed it, but not painfully so. It's slightly cool to the touch, though the warmth of Charlie's fingers quickly brings its temperature up. Slowly, she brings her hand up and uncurls her fingers, unveiling a little flash of silver. Tears form in her eyes and her previous anger evaporates like water in the desert.

"Seth!" She yells, jogging after Seth's retreating form. He turns halfway to face her before Charlie flings her arms around his neck and pulls him down to her in a hug. "I'm sorry for being a jackass," she murmurs quietly, her cheeks flushing with the embarrassment of having to apologize for her actions. "Be safe," she commands sternly, pulling away from him.

Seth laughs, the dimples in his cheeks becoming more prominent with his grin. "I will," he promises. Charlie tries to grin back, but it's hard. She's still really scared for him, and he hasn't even left yet. She watches as Seth and Glenn climb into Seth's car, and the engine comes to life. Seth waves at her and she weakly returns the gesture. She can hear the crunch of gravel under the car's tires as it accelerates, leaving Charlie and the safety of the camp behind.

Charlie looks at the item clutched desperately in her fingers once more. It's a necklace with two rings on it. One plain band made of gleaming silver and one more intricate silver band with deeply set diamonds on a delicate silver chain. Seth had given her his parents' wedding rings to keep safe while he's gone.

Charlie can only hope he'll make it back so she can return them. They feel heavy in her fingers, like they don't belong.

Charlie watches as the tires kick up a cloud of dirt, accelerating down the road leading away from the quarry. Her stomach clenches and does a painful flip, but she forces the feeling away. She exhales slowly, pulling her hair up into a high pony tail before slowly making her way back to the tent. Seth's a big boy, he can make his own decisions. She has to respect that.

Charlie tries not to stomp through camp like a scolded toddler, but with her boots it just feels so easy to let her feet fall heavier than normal, to obnoxiously crunch gravel and debris under the thick soles. She eventually makes it to her shared tent and grabs her bow and hunting pack. She doesn't bother to check the inside the pack, there's no need. Zipping her tent back up, she exits once more, taking note of the absence of the younger Dixon, the one she snapped at this morning. There's a delayed twinge of guilt for involving him, but it's easily shrugged off.

She's supposed to be leaving the camp to hunt and, for all intents and purposes, it looks exactly like that's what she's going to do. Instead, she shifts her route to the furthest outer edge of camp, where she's been steadily carving a looping trail through the forest. She tries to run through it once or twice every day, most days it's to help her burn off some energy so she can sleep better. But today is different. There are reasons. It's for stress relief. It's for getting her mind off of Seth leaving her. It's for an excuse not to lounge around camp all day like a puppy waiting for its master. It's for a multitude of reasons.

Mostly, she has to admit, it's to spite the other campers. It looks like she went hunting, but when she comes back, hopefully coated in a healthy sheen of sweat, she'll be empty-handed. And for tonight, they'll have to rely on their canned stock, break out the unopened packages of beef jerky. Tonight, the one person she cares about is gone. She's not going to pretend otherwise. Maybe it's a little childish for some who's supposed to be her age—a ripe old 34—but she can't bring herself to care.

Charlie runs through her homemade track with her bow and pack slung across her back, after tightening the straps on her pack to where it doesn't bounce and jostle when she takes a step. It's a slightly more intense version of her training regime before the world took a nosedive. The extra weight gets extremely cumbersome after a while, but she staunchly refuses to take it off, clinging to the pain and the struggle with a bulldog-like vice.

"If it doesn't hurt, it's not working," her father would say in response to Charlie's complaints on their morning runs through the neighborhood. If he were here, he would tell her that now. It's all she can do now to throw herself into her running, pushing everything she has into it. The only thought she allows to linger for more than a second is how much she misses her music. But in time the sound of the zippers on her pack clicking, the wind through the leaves, her bow bouncing ever-so-slightly, and the simple yet beautiful songs the birds sing, they rise and collaborate to create something that's just as good.

* * *

Charlie trails quietly through her path, walking slowly. She ran for a long time, though she has no idea how long, before slowing to a walk. Her father always said it was better to lower her heart rate slowly, naturally, with some easier exercises instead of letting it drop right after a run. She never cared to find out if it was true or not and over time, it became set in stone. Workouts always end with a walk. There are no exceptions.

The forest is more relaxing than she'd like to admit. The rhythmic crunches of her footsteps, while detrimental on a hunt, are soothing and consistent in this moment. Consistency was something she took for granted before. Her pre-apocalypse routine was so deeply rooted, very few things could shake it. For several years it had been exactly the same, no surprises or changes. That's the way she liked it. But now, nothing is certain any more. She doesn't know what to expect from the next day. She doesn't know what to prepare for. It's infuriating and confusing and… intimidating.

Fear can only be pushed away for so long.

Ignoring her previous train of thought, Charlie produces a bandana from her pocket and wipes her face with it, clearing her skin of sweat. Replacing the bandana, she heads back to camp at last, having spent enough time avoiding everyone. It's a short walk back to the outskirts of their makeshift community. She can hear the commotion before she can see it. She knows it means something bad. Panic rises in her chest like a wave, flooding her entire body with a sinking sense of complete and utter dread. Her pace kicks up, she's nearly sprinting through the camp. There aren't any people in the tents, it's almost completely deserted. They're all congealed around a single point in the distance.

Seth's car is back. There's an agitated group of people gathered around the RV. They're shouting. Arguments break and crescendo into screaming fits. Charlie's mouth feels like sandpaper. Something is disastrously wrong and whatever it is has to do with Seth and Glenn's return. There's no other explanation.

"What's going on?!" Charlie asks frantically, not bothering to lower her voice.

The only attention she manages to catch is from Dale, the kindly old man she had met on her first day in camp. Dale's face is pained, his eyes heavy with knowledge not yet known to Charlie. He reaches up and pulls his fisherman's hat off of his balding and slightly liver-spotted head, wringing it between his wrinkled fingers. With a hesitant hand, he touches her shoulder, guiding her through the crowd and closer to the RV.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte," Dale says, his use of her full name almost causing her to flinch. "But there was an accident on the supply run."

"What?" Charlie breathes, her chest starting to ache. "What happened? Is he okay?" Charlie's questions make Dale turn away from her, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

Shane steps out of the RV, his thumbs tucked into his belt. "You gotta make a decision, girl. The people aren't gonna wait long."

Charlie turns her confused gaze on Dale, trying to make sense of Shane's words and the old man's avoidance. "What do you mean?" she asks at last, her quieter than she intended.

Shane's eyes narrow, "You mean you don't know?" he asks slowly, settling his stare accusingly on Dale's face. "Dale didn't tell you?"

Dale frowns, his hands twisting his hat. "I thought that she would want to see him first."

"What's going on?!" Charlie finally snaps forcefully, feeling a touch on anger burn through the icy hold of fear.

Shane turns back to the RV abruptly, bidding Charlie to follow him with a quick jerk of his hand. Charlie trails up the steps to the RV, her hands idly reaching up to undo the straps on her pack, allowing the bag to slide to the floor. It didn't seem right to wear it while inside. She's never been inside the RV before, of course she's seen it, but she's never been invited inside. Perhaps if she was less preoccupied with worry, she would think something more of it, pay more attention. But as it is, there's something gravely wrong.

"Seth?" Charlie whispers in horror, her lips quivering. He's lying on the bed of the RV, his face is pale and shines with sweat. Glenn, Lori, and a woman Charlie's never seen before are hovering around him, their hands speckled in blood. Seth is covered in blood. Shane touches her shoulder lightly, in something of a consoling motion, and exits the RV.

Glenn's guilty gaze connects with Charlie's and he nearly flinches, dropping the eye-contact immediately. Frowning, Charlie takes a couple steps closer, only to stop. She's almost scared to get any closer to Seth. She's scared to see what kind of condition he's in. His eyes are closed, but he's breathing. She almost can't pinpoint the source of the blood on him, but eventually, she realizes it's thicker near his neck and shoulder. She can't tell exactly where the wound is, on account of the bandages being pressed down by the unknown woman.

Lori approaches Charlie slowly, almost in the same way Charlie would approach a wounded animal, calmly, quietly, with no sudden moves. That's because, Charlie realizes with a jolt of horror, she is the wounded animal in this situation. She's vulnerable and unpredictable. And Lori's going in for the kill.

Lori's warm soft hand lands on Charlie's forearm, her brown eyes shining with pity. "Charlie," she starts slowly, trying not to startle Charlie, "Seth was attacked by a walker on the scouting run. The fever has already started and he's lost a lot of blood."

Charlie's fears are confirmed. Guilt and shame light a fire in her stomach, at the same time sorrow sinks its teeth into her heart. Tears line Charlie's dark eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. Shaking off Lori's pity, she strides forward and situates herself next to the bed Seth is on. With shaking fingers, she takes one of his hands in hers and settles down for the long haul. She won't be leaving Seth's side any time soon.

"Charlie," Glenn's quivering voice entreats her, "I am so sorry," he whispers. Charlie can't find the will to look at him. He was the only person with Seth when he was bitten. Screwing her eyes shut causes the first tear to squeeze out of her eye. She ignores it, taking a deep breath and pressing her lips into a firm resolute line, refusing to acknowledge Glenn.

She doesn't have the strength.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry about that cliffhanger! I'll do my best to get the next chapter out soon. In the meantime, why don't you leave me a bunch of nice reviews? It doesn't have to be much, but I would appreciate it so much! You could tell me what your favorite part was or what your least favorite part was, leave advise or suggestions, or just tell me what you thought about everything! It doesn't take much time but makes me very happy. Thanks in advance! :)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello all! I'm back and I bear gifts! Have an update. I worked on it super hard just for you. If y'all ever feel the need to express your opinion on the chapter, I'd be more than happy to hear it! Have a happy read! (Oh, and many thanks to my dear friend mcgonagiggles, she always looks over my chapters for me. She's awesome and I forget to credit her sometimes! D: )

* * *

It's the morning of the next day and Charlie has yet to leave Seth's side. She dips a wash cloth into a bowl of cool water and wrings it out before laying it across Seth's forehead. His condition is rapidly worsening, and he still hasn't shown any signs of waking up. His skin is scorching, sweat pours down his face in fat droplets that soak into the pillow his head is resting on. Even though he's asleep, it's painfully obvious to Charlie that it's not a peaceful sleep. His expression is constantly one of pain, and he occasionally thrashes, scattering the sheets and blankets thrown over him.

Charlie is slowly coming into the realization that Seth is going to die. He isn't going to recover from this. It's possible he'll die without even opening his eyes again. Her throat tightens and her eyes itch, but she sniffs and blinks the tears away, determinedly focusing on what else she can so to make Seth more comfortable.

The door to the RV creaks and swings open, causing Charlie to turn her head. Up the stairs comes marching Shane, whose face is set in stone, blank and unyielding. "The people are getting restless," he drawls, resting a hand on his thick police-issue belt. "Some of them are very upset with the situation."

"So what?!" Charlie spits, immediately rising to her feet and moving to stand in front of Seth's bed. "If they're upset it's because they're scared that they're losing their food-supplier! They don't care about _him_! They only care about _themselves_!"

Shane frowns at the outburst, slowly shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Most of them are scared that he's going to turn and bite someone," he says, ignoring what she said.

This time, she can't hold the tears back. They stream down her face, leaving angry streaks on her furiously reddened cheeks. "Get out!" She screams, her voice quivering with rage.

Shane, taking note of her tightened fists and clenched jaw, shakes his head slowly and turns to leave, "You're gonna havta face it eventually."

Charlie, shaking with rage, whirls around and jerks the pitcher of water off of the bedside table. She's ready to dash it to pieces in her fit of anger, but all she does is splash water everywhere. It soaks into her dirty jeans and her ugly semi-clean plaid shirt, making her even angrier. Feeling somewhat defeated- and embarrassed for doing such a silly thing—she sinks into the folding chair she dragged up next to the bed earlier and gingerly places the pitcher back in its original spot, as if to make up for her earlier outburst. How could those people be so selfish? How could they only care about Seth when he was bringing them food? Did they have any sense of loyalty?

Charlie tries to wipe the tears away with the heels of her hand, but all she manages to do is smudge them across her cheeks. She stands up abruptly, feeling the urge to verbally tear into each and every person living in the quarry. She wants to berate them for their selfishness, damn them for their short-comings and accuse them of all the wrongs they've committed and swept under the rug. She wants to hurt them.

A quiet moan stops her in her tracks and instantly has her back at Seth's bedside, her hands darting to take his considerably larger hand into her grasp. "Seth?" she whispers, feeling like she's talking to a scared baby animal with all of the cautions she took not to surprise him.

Seth wordlessly groans again, thrashing against some invisible hold. Charlie carefully touches his cheek, "It's okay, I'm here, Seth," she murmurs quietly, stroking the back of his hand.

"Shaaarlie?" Seth slurs, his voice rasping.

"Shhh, don't talk," Charlie urges, quickly pouring him a glass of water, using what remained of the water in the pitcher she almost flung to the ground in her desperate anger. She's glad that she was able to resist. She sets the glass on the table and slides an arm underneath Seth's shoulders, helping him get into a sitting position. He groans in agony, his eyes screwing shut and his breath quickening. She winces in sympathy, trying to make the movement as easy on him as possible. When he's propped up, she grabs the glass and presses it to his lips, helping him take a long drink.

Seth starts coughing and accidentally inhales a gulp of water. He chokes and Charlie frantically withdraws the glass, her mind going blank with panic. She doesn't know what to do to help him. Luckily, for the both of them, Seth manages to regain his breath and stop coughing. He doesn't move for a long time, his eyes closed and his chest heaving.

Finally, after a few tense moments, his eyes slide open again, though they're hazy and unfocused. His gaze sharpens a little and his lips pull into a smile. "Ssstill have them," he mutters, his hand slowly reaching up to brush the rings hanging from Charlie's throat.

Charlie tries to return his smile, but the tears clouding her eyes make it hard. "Of course I do, you told me to keep them safe. I would never let you down," but as soon as the words leave her mouth, she knows that she has let him down. He's dying and there's nothing she can do about it. She should've fought harder to go with him and Glenn. She should've never let him go. If only she had been more aggressive in her requests for him to stay.

"I know you wouldn't," Seth breathes, settling deeper in the pillows. Charlie reaches behind herself to unclasp the necklace, intending to return it to Seth. He stops her with a simple shake of his head. "Keep them," he says, refusing to take the necklace back.

Charlie's hands fall limply to her sides, her heart as hollow and her lungs full of lead. "It's yours," she states. "They belonged to your parents," she says, referring to the rings the silver chain was threaded through. She isn't sure why she said that, there's no way Seth forgot who they belonged to.

"I know," Seth laughs weakly. "Then they belonged to me… and now they're yours." His eyes start to close, jarring Charlie into abrupt movement.

"No!" She yelps, her hands leaping to shake Seth's shoulders. "Don't go to sleep, Seth!"

Seth groans in pain, Charlie's hand pressing into the wound near his neck. "I wasn't…" he hisses, weakly trying to twist out of her grasp.

Charlie's eyes widen in horror, snatching her hands back. "I'm so sorry, Seth! I didn't—I didn't mean to!"

"It's… It's okay," he murmurs. His eyes close again and this time Charlie does nothing. He sleeps, not thrashing the same way he did before. Charlie isn't sure whether that's a good sigh or a bad sign. So instead, she just continues doing everything she can to help him feel more comfortable. She's only able to refrain from crying by staunchly ignoring the fact that Seth has contracted the disease that's killed millions.

Like a watchdog, she hasn't left the RV since she walked in. It's been at least six hours since he woke up the first time, but she's determined not to leave. Every once and a while someone ducks their head in to make sure everything's still okay. They leave quickly when they realize Charlie is less likely to talk to them than Seth—who is sleeping so deeply he looks like he's dead. Charlie checks every couple of minutes to make sure he's still breathing, like a new mother with a baby.

Glenn's head pokes into the room. When Charlie's eyes land on him, he sheepishly steps in, holding an open can of peaches in front of him like a peace offering. There's a plastic utensil poking out of the top. "I, uh, I thought you'd be hungry. I didn't know if you… if you, uh, ate last night and you haven't eaten since you went in the RV and I thought—I thought I could bring you something…" Glenn trails off, his eyes glued to Seth's pasty complexion. He swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

"Thanks," Charlie says flatly, sluggishly dragging her red eyes away from Seth to stare at Glenn. Glenn flinches and his leg twitches like he's going to take a step backwards, instead, he forces himself to place the can on the table next to Seth's bed. Then, surprising Charlie with his boldness, he pulls up a chair on the other side of the bed and plants himself in it. Charlie frowns and stares at him, wondering why he's there. But he defiantly avoids her gaze, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched.

Charlie finally decides she doesn't care, moving her eyes to stare at Seth and feeling a jolt of panic when she realizes how still he looks—deathly still. She stands abruptly, startling Glenn as she leans over the bed and places her hand on Seth's chest, moving her ear next to his mouth. She only calms down when she hears his breathing and feels his weak heartbeat underneath her palm. He groans so quietly that she wouldn't have heard it if her ear wasn't next to his mouth, and begins to stir.

"Ssshaaarlie?" Seth questions, his voice thick with pain. His eyes open slowly, a dull confusion furrowing his eyebrows.

"I'm right here, Seth," Charlie replies, removing the now-dry rag and running a hand over his scorching forehead. It feels like the fever's getting worse. She gets a fresh rag and dips it in the room-temperature water then wrings it out and smooths it over his forehead. She leans closer to him, trying to hear his breath for an extra bit of reassurance that he's still alive.

"Charlie! Watch-"

BANG!

Screeching, Charlie jerks back away from Seth. There's blood in her eyes and mouth. She can't hear anything. Her world is spinning. Using her palms, she grinds the blood out of her eyes, opening them to a horrific sight. Seth's body is on the bed, still and lifeless, a quarter sized hole where one of his eyes used to be. His mouth hangs open, gaping, and his other eye is wide and glazed. She turns her head slowly, and, standing in the hallway is a man holding a gun. She has seen him around camp before. Traded squirrels with him. Tried to teach him basic defense. Listened to a story about his old car and how much he missed it, even the way the engine rattled and the doors creaked.

Her brain supplies a name, Mark. His name is Mark.

Mark just shot Seth.

Charlie lurches, the can of peaches and pitcher of water splash to the floor. Mark jerks and turns to run. She lunges after him, her fingers closing in on the space where his jacket used to be. He makes it to the door of the RV and begins to descend the stairs. She's only a couple steps behind him.

Charlie leaps. In midair one of her fists curl into his jacket and the other in his hair, the two of them falling fast for the ground.

Mark hits first, his chin making impact before the rest of his body. He gives a strong jerk and stills as Charlie lands on top of him, her stiff arms giving out and causing her to flip over him with her momentum. When the figurative dust settles, she is lying perpendicular to Mark, her head resting near his.

When Charlie's eyes open, she's staring right into Mark's. They're bulging and glazed. His face is scraped badly and the cuts ooze slowly, thick blood traveling across his cheeks and temple like a snail. His neck is twisted into an impossible angle.

Charlie killed Mark.

Screaming, Charlie's fingers tear into the ground in her desperation to get away from the dead man with the dead eyes that stare straight into her dead heart.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hey guys! Surprised to see me so soon? Yeah, I am too. The drawback is that this chapter is rather... short. So was last chapter, but worry not! I've already got the next chapter started, so it shouldn't be too far away.

* * *

There are people buzzing around Charlie like flies drawn in by the scent of death. That might be true, seeing as two deaths had occurred under an hour ago, one of them caused by Charlie's own hand. Someone moved Mark's body, but she can still see the smudges of blood soaked into the caliche. People have been talking at her, but at this point they would get more responses from a rock. They realize this and leave her be. All attempts to move her fail. Her eyes are wide and glassy, her mind so overfilled with thoughts that not even one has a chance at being coherent. It's like a piece of paper thoroughly soaked in ink. There are words and there are meanings, but they're lost in the big picture. So crammed with meaning, that it might as well be blank.

"Charlotte."

Charlie's entire body gives a jerk, her head whipping around for the source of the sound. It's her father. He's standing in the door of the RV. He steps down, his thick work boots crunching down on the rocks and making clouds of caliche dust flare up like little whirlwinds. He takes another step, smudging Mark's blood puddles.

Charlie gives a shriek, kicking away from him, her fingers clawing into the earth, "NO!" She's screaming so loudly that everyone drops what they're doing and crowds around her.

"Charlie?" "CHARLIE!" "What are you doing?" "Charlie?!" "Why is she screaming?" "Shut up!" "Charlie." "CHARLIE!"

Can't they see him? Can't they see the man slowly approaching her?

"Charlotte, what have you done?" he asks with slow purpose.

"Go away!" Charlie sobs, flinging a handful of dust and rocks at the man. It passes right through him, leaving not a speck on his greasy white shirt. "Leave me alone! Please, please, please… just leave me alone!" She's weeping openly now, the tears remoistening tracks of previously dried blood. Her father steps inside the ring of people gathered around her, causing her to jolt to her feet and stumble away. She nearly bowls over some of the people surrounding her, but she doesn't care.

"You're dead, Charlotte. You will pay for the sins you have committed."

Charlie desperately lurches away from him, launching into a wild sprint through camp. It's almost deserted. Everyone's either in their tent, or up at the RV. She meets no resistance as she flies past the edge of camp and into the surrounding forest. She cuts through the path she ran earlier the day before. She passes the edge of the track and keeps going, her fear fueling her in the same way coal fuels a fire.

Charlie's steps are loud and clumsy, but she can still hear his voice cut through the racket she's making. "That's four now, isn't it?" He asks, calmly strolling along behind her. "I was the first. That little girl, Kendra, wasn't it? She was the second. Then Seth was third and Mark fourth." His laugh lashes out like a physical blow, causing a hysterical wail to leave Charlie's throat.

"NO! I didn't! I didn't kill you! I didn't! Wasn't me, wasn't me, wasn't me…" Charlie sobs, tripping over a tree branch and landing hard on her arms. Defeated, she curls into a ball and waits for hell to unleash upon her.

"It was you. The only one to blame is you. I died, Charlotte, and you could've stopped it. You may not have tied the noose, but you gave me the rope," her father finally reaches her and begins to circle her in much the same way a predator stalks around its prey.

Charlie crawls away from him, doing her best not to hear the words that leave his mouth. But it's impossible, he might as well be screaming into her ear. She has nothing to say to try to refute him any longer, because every word that leaves his mouth is true.

"Foolish little Charlie, you've always relied on others more than they relied on you. If you died instead of Seth, how torn up do you think he'd be? Sure, he'd cry a little, lose a couple winks of sleep… but do you really think he'd imagine his dead father chasing him down and giving him life lessons?" His laugh strikes her again, and she feels tears running down her cheeks. "You're going to have to find another crutch, my dear. Because Mark's soul is angry, and you won't find anyone who wants a killer."

Charlie heaves herself to her feet and stumbles into a clumsy run, ducking and weaving through the tree branches. Her heart thumps in her chest, giving her the impression that it wants to escape. Her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth like Velcro. Her lips are chapped and cracked. There's a trickle of blood coming from somewhere on the side of her head. Not knowing is what's best for now. She ignores the blood. She runs faster.

"Run all you want, little Charlie. It's the only thing you're good for," his voice is whispering in her ear, but he's nowhere to be seen any more. "But know that no matter how fast you run, I will never leave you."

* * *

Charlie, after running as far as she could, collapsed. She's at least three miles away from camp. Her last thought before falling into unconsciousness was the hope that no one would find her. She didn't want to be found, she didn't want to face the accusing stares of the judgmental people. She didn't want to be an outcast. Because that's what she would be if she went back. Who would want to associate with them woman who killed a man?

Accident or not, Mark is now dead because of Charlie. That's the kind of thing that is not easily forgotten. It sticks to the inside of one's memory with the blind determination of a baited bull, like bubblegum, once ingrained, there's very little chance of getting it out. In the collective memory of the group, Charlie is now a killer.

Charlie's aware of this, she understands. She can't go back. Because she killed Mark.

There's something nudging her. The motion starts gentle, but quickly progresses past the point of pain. In a detached way, Charlie finds herself wishing it's a walker. Maybe then she could escape this hellacious new world where Seth's dead. Oh, and cannibals are present as well.

This line of thought, this fleeting foolish hope, prevents Charlie from reacting to the, now painful, jabs. Maybe it'll figure out that trying to bite through denim isn't the best plan of action. Then again, it is dead. Maybe she's expecting too much.

Charlie's eyes slide open, the glare of the sun filtering through the trees momentarily blinding her. Huh, it was the afternoon when she left camp, but the sun's in the wrong position for it to be afternoon. "What time is it?" she wonders aloud, almost casually.

"Time for you ta git yer ass up. The fuck're ya doin' out here? An' why're you covered in blood?" Daryl's sneering face cuts into the line of sunshine, allowing Charlie to see that he has his crossbow trained on her. She sees it, she perceives it as a threat against her life, but she can't bring herself to care. Sleep had not brought even a fleeting moment of respite from the new world without Seth. Her dreams were filled with him. She heard him, his voice, screaming at her, berating her, pleading with her. She saw him, his smiling face with the quarter sized hole where his right eye used to be.

"Well?" Daryl grumbles, expecting an answer from Charlie. "Ah asked you a question."

"So you did…" Charlie breathes, dragging herself into a sitting position. The movement causes the dried blood to tug at her skin uncomfortably. She swallows thickly, trying to force the words to leave her mouth. How hard could it be? "It's… It's not mine," she says at last, failing to reach an adequate explanation.

"Well, ain't that a fuckin' relief. Wanna tell me whose it is?" Daryl asks, a sarcastic snarl underlining his words.

Charlie's heart tightens, preparing against the onslaught of memories. She licks her lips, wincing when her saliva remoistens the cracked surfaces. "It's Seth's," she says finally, the name nearly burning a hole in her tongue.

Charlie's confession causes Daryl to lower his crossbow and avert his eyes. "He turn?" he asks.

Charlie's breath hitches in her throat. _Deep breaths, Charlie,_ she schools herself, trying to pull herself out of the rising wave of grief. "He, ah, he didn't get a chance…" she swallows, rubbing her palms on her dirty, bloody jeans. "Someone… Someone came into the RV before the fever took him and… He was still alive and they…" she can't finish the sentence on account of her itching eyes and tingling nose, the symptoms of oncoming tears. Daryl shifts his weight, bringing his thumb up to his mouth to chew on his nail. Other than that, he waits patiently for Charlie to gather her wits and continue telling him what happened.

"Mark came into the RV and shot Seth in the head," she says the stream of words quickly, like ripping off a bandage in one motion instead of dragging out the pain. "He was still… still alive."

Daryl shifts his position again, "An' what happened ta Mark?"

With a shiver of horror, Charlie remembers the final jerk Mark's body gave as she landed upon him. She feels hysteria creeping at the edge of her conscience in the same way predators stalk the edges of the glow of a camp-fire. She pulls her legs to her chest and wraps her arms firmly around them, rapidly blinking to try and clear her vision of tears. "He's dead now," she says simply, not owning up to her sin.

"What," Daryl snorts, as if he found something humorous about the situation, "did Deputy Douchebag shoot him?" The acrid taste of bile floods Charlie's mouth and she clamps her mouth shut, slowly shaking her head.

Daryl watches her, his eyes narrowed in acute suspicion, "Who killed 'im?" he asks, watching as her face turns a couple shades paler. Charlie doesn't outwardly answer, her lips still clamped shut. She slowly shakes her head, refusing to answer the question. That action in itself is enough to tell Daryl exactly who killed Mark.

"Shit, Charles… ya didn't…" Daryl mutters, looking at her with a new perspective.

Charlie gives a shuttering breath, tucking her face into the crook of her knees. "I can't go back," she whispers. The reality of her situation has not yet sunk in. It will soon.

"What happened to yer ear?" Daryl asks abruptly, startling Charlie out of her downward spiral. Cautiously, Charlie raises her hand to her ear, the one crusted with dried blood. She runs her fingers lightly over the shell of her ear until she runs into a ragged dip about half the size of a penny in her cartilage. It's warm to the touch and painful. She belatedly jerks her hand away at the onset of pain, wincing as her ear starts to throb.

"I was… I was really close to Seth when Mark shot him. I think the bullet grazed me," she says slowly, realizing how close she came to death.

Daryl nods in acknowledgement of her statement, shifting his grip on the crossbow. There's silence between them. Daryl doesn't ask any more questions, and Charlie doesn't offer any more explanations.

Wordlessly, Daryl turns his back on Charlie, leaving in the direction he came from. She unflinchingly watches him leave, dragging herself to lean against a tree trunk. She doesn't care that he's leaving; it's exactly what she expected. Her muscles ache from her uncomfortable night spent on the ground. Closing her eyes, she wishes briefly that she could just go to sleep and escape it all.

"Wonder if they got the sense to bury the bodies yet," Daryl says, his voice coming from a couple feet away. He hadn't left yet.

Charlie's eyes pop open, shocked that she had managed to forget such an important thing. Had they buried Seth the way he deserved to be buried? She struggles to get to her feet using the tree as an anchor, her numb legs threatening to dump her on the ground at any moment. She couldn't leave something like that to chance, she had to see with her own eyes. She would dig his grave on her own. Perhaps she could leave after that. Wobbling like a new-born deer, she stumbles in the direction of the camp. She had tried to get so far away she wouldn't know what direction the camp was in, taking many unnecessary twists and turns. Yet, she couldn't fool her brain. It unfailingly kept tabs for her, even as she begged it not to.

If Daryl has any objections to her leaving, he doesn't voice them. Instead, he picks up his string of squirrels and stalks deeper into the forest, his silent footsteps supporting his merit as a hunter. Charlie still has problems making her footsteps quiet, and in the stillness, they sound like Death.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! But I'd really appreciate some reviews! I write this story because I love it, and I love sharing it with all of you guys! The only thing I ask for in return is a review. I want y'all to tell me how you like it so far and what you think of the chapter. It would really make my day, and I always reply personally to reviews, even if it might take a couple days for me to get to it. Thanks! I hope you continue to stick with me!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello loves! I'm back with another update! There's some important back-story and other developments for you to enjoy. Okay... so it's not the most exciting chapter, but I feel that it's necessary. Anyway, read on!

* * *

The walk back to camp is long, but eventually Charlie's legs stop feeling numb and it gets easier. It doesn't help that she hasn't eaten in so long. She hasn't had anything to drink, either. Her tongue feels thick and swollen, like it's clothed in wool. Her entire body aches and, as she continues to force herself in the direction of the camp, it only worsens. She hasn't had very much sleep in the last two days. She kept a vigil on Seth the night before and sleeping after passing out isn't as restful as regular sleep.

Charlie's stomach aches with hunger. Even though the apocalypse has been in full-force for a while, she's never suffered from hunger pains. She's always had enough food to, at the very least, keep the hunger pains away. It makes her see how lucky she had been up to a couple days ago. She realizes that things weren't that bad for her up until Seth died. _Hindsight is always perfect, _she thinks as she fiercely rubs her itchy eyes. She feels the need to cry, but she isn't sure she can after how much she cried the day before. Besides, her tongue already stuck to the roof of her mouth something awful, there might not be any water left in her body to spare on tears.

"No more tears," Charlie mutters firmly, angry at herself with how pitiful she's acting. "Put your big girl panties on, Charlie. Take care of your shit before you fall to pieces again." Nodding to herself, she lengthens her stride and holds her head higher. She's determined to dust herself off and continue on. That's all she can do. She had her moment of self-pity. It's time to go back to the camp, put Seth to rest, and keep living. She releases a slow breath and begins the arduous process of steeling herself for the upcoming events. She made her decision not to cry any more, now she has to make good on it.

About an hour later, she finally arrives on the outskirts of camp. Her indecision glues her in place. She isn't sure whether she should walk right in or if she should skirt around the camp to see if they buried him without her. She could save a lot of time with walking right in and asking someone, but does she really want to be seen? Then again, she needs food and water. Even if she avoided everyone and somehow found where they buried Seth, she would have to come in contact with _someone_ while getting food and water. It would be pretty hard to avoid everyone.

On second thought, she isn't that thirsty. Perhaps she could go a couple more hours without food and water. She begins to trek around the camp, searching for any signs of recently disturbed earth. The hot Georgia sun hounds her the entire way, beating down on her back and neck. Sweat breaks and pours down her face, soaking into the filthy plaid shirt she's been wearing for the last couple days. She refuses to give up, though, even if she knows what finding his grave will be like. There's absolutely no way that discovery could bring anything but pain and a resurgence of her last image of him, his gaping jaw, pallid complexion, and empty eye socket. A rough shiver courses down her spine and she instinctively wraps her arms around herself.

Charlie shakes her head, futilely trying to dislodge the images that are seared into her brain. Instead, she begins to think of happier times. It's almost funny to think about now, but the first time she met Seth, he accidentally dropped a weight on her foot. Luckily, it was only a ten pound weight and didn't cause any lasting damage (only intense, on-the-brink-of-tears pain), but he still drove her to the hospital and footed all the bills. During their rather long stay in the waiting room, they bonded over their shared interests—namely the gym they shared and their jobs as instructors. The irony of their situation was not lost on them, with Charlie being the self-defense instructor and Seth being the gymnastics teacher. In the end, they parted as acquaintances with no hard feelings for the incident.

After running into each other multiple times at the gym, they finally decided to meet somewhere else. It started as going out for smoothies after working out, as Charlie didn't really like coffee. After that, their friendship just took off. They each relished in the fact that they had a friend that was extremely active and enjoyed biking, hiking, morning jogs and the like. Then they started teaching each other more skills. Charlie learned how to do back-hand springs from Seth and in turn, she taught him how to disarm attackers. Their knowledge continued to be shared, until they each had an extensive understanding of the other's area of profession.

But what really set their friendship in stone is when Seth unfailingly took care of Charlie after her father committed suicide when she was 26. The death of her father was the first true loss she'd ever experienced. She didn't know how to react. She stopped eating, she stopped drinking, and she just stopped _functioning._ It was a hard blow to deal with—especially when she hadn't visited him in a year. She knew that she was the only person he had left, but she still refused to visit him on account of a petty fight. The old man, a war veteran, was too stubborn to seek out her company. After he died, Charlie was left without any family of any kind. Her mother left mere months after Charlie was born. Her father had no way of contacting her mother's side of the family, and his side had already cut ties with him. Seth became her family.

But Charlie was the only family her father had left. She ignored him and allowed him to die alone. Even before the apocalypse, Seth was the only person Charlie had. She failed to keep him safe from the hostile new world they had been dumped into.

Her greatest regrets and greatest failures go hand in hand, and, unfortunately, they fatally affected the people she loved the most.

Then there's Mark, the man she directly killed in result of her actions, the man who stormed into the RV and shot a wounded man. Charlie didn't mean to kill him. Though she doesn't know what would've happened if it had gone differently and Mark had lived to make it out of the RV. Would she lose her mind and start brainlessly attacking him in her rage? Perhaps she would've killed him anyway. Perhaps it wouldn't have been an accident.

Suddenly sick to her stomach of the implications, Charlie jerks that train of thought to an abrupt stop, locking it up in the deepest pit of her mind. Luckily, it doesn't have time to crawl out of the depths she banished it to, because she sees something that pulls the first smile out of her that day. Sitting on top of a small hill are two wooden crosses. The crosses sit at the head of two long oval-shaped graves. The sight almost breaks her 'no more tears,' promise, but she keeps it together nicely, all things considered. Allowing the powerful wave of relief to sweep through her and reduce some of her anxiety, she begins the trek up the small hill.

Once Charlie arrives at the graves, she can see that someone took a permanent marker and inscribed names on the crosses, "Seth," and "Mark," respectively. But the action that really touches her is the fact that sitting at the bottom of each cross is a handful of assorted wildflowers. She cries, but scrubs the tears away before they can really even be counted as tears.

Satisfied that Seth received the proper level of respect he deserved, she feels all of the energy leave her body. She sinks to her knees slowly, sitting on the recently disturbed earth. Making sure Seth was buried was the only thing that kept her going. Without that driving her, she has nothing but memories of people that are long gone. She sits there for a long time, her eyes closed as she listens to the breeze gently rustle the grass and the birds sing.

"You're, uh, you're going to get a sunburn if you stay that way," Glenn's meek voice surprises her. Charlie doesn't answer him, her stomach rolling at the thought of confronting a person who knew what she had done. Daryl got the privilege of hearing the story from Charlie's mouth. Glenn watched her kill Mark. He was there when Seth was shot, tried to warn her when Mark walked down the hallway, gun in hand. Her fear keeps her from opening her mouth; she's afraid if she does, too many words will spill out and incriminate her further.

"I'm sorry," Glenn blurts, though Charlie still won't look at him. "I'm sorry this happened Charlie. Seth was—Seth was a really good guy and he didn't… didn't deserve this."

Charlie draws a ragged breath, swallowing thickly. Tears begin to develop beneath her eyelids, all she can do is nod in agreement with Glenn's statements. She drags her dirty shirtsleeve across her eyes, smearing the tears. There goes her 'no more tears,' policy, though it had probably already been broken by the wildflowers. "He was," she agrees, her voice croaking with the effort. "He always wanted…" she swallows thickly, the tears in her eyes overwhelming her vision and clouding the image of Seth's cross. "He always wanted a family. He was the kind of guy who'd be happiest with a perfect lawn and white picket fence… with two kids playing out front, the loyal family dog watching over them." She remembers all the times he told her about his dreams of having a family, about falling in love with the perfect woman and then getting married.

How would he have a family now? Where was that perfect woman, the one who laughed with him when he was happy and held his hand when he was sad?

"If there was anyone who deserved to be happy in this miserable wreck of a world… it was Seth," Charlie says quietly, her tears fading. But she had ruined that, of course, in the same way she ruined all things.

Aimlessly, almost in a daze, Charlie rises to her feet. Glenn, who had listened to every bitter word she said, meekly reaches out, as if to touch her. She refuses the action and turns her back on him, casually walking back in the direction of the forest.

Glenn, thank goodness, has more sense than to let her wander off. Without a word, he takes hold of her wrist, tugging her back in the direction of camp.

Charlie doesn't have anything left within her to oppose him. Her emotional reserves have bled out and turned into a dry, cracked riverbed of apathy.

* * *

The initial return to the camp is as painful as jabbing bamboo skewers under her fingernails, and each judgmental stare is like twisting the skewer. The people act like she's diseased, repelled from her in the same way one leaps out of the path of a person struck with leprosy. She's questioned and questioned again, repeating her story multiple times. It doesn't change, but Shane is good at the whole 'interrogating cop' spiel.

And the worst part is, Glenn refuses to leave her side. He eagerly backs up every word she says, even adding some details she hadn't noticed. Like how Mark drew the gun from his waistband, or how the door to the RV was open from Dale coming in to retrieve a screwdriver.

It's a horrible game of jumping through hoops and performing tricks like a good little dog, frowning when she's supposed to frown, dropping her gaze when to convey shame. Sometimes when an artist doesn't want a canvas painting, they paint over it with white paint so it can be used again for something else. Right now Charlie is the painting that has been painted over. The last two days have been an enormous emotional drain, and she's been sucked dry.

The game eventually pays off, and Shane allows her to leave.

Charlie dreads it in the same way a child dreads going to the doctor's office, but she knows she'll eventually have to return to the tent she and Seth shared. She can see Lori staring at her from across the fire, her wide brown eyes judging Charlie, condemning her. When Charlie meets her gaze, she puts a possessive hand on Carl's knee, wordlessly warning Charlie to stay away.

"Here," a woman's voice frees her from her thoughts, startling her, "I thought you'd be hungry," she insists, pushing a plate of pork n' beans into Charlie's dirty fingers. The bottom of the plate is warm and gentle currents of steam waft up from it.

Slowly pulling her eyes away from the food, Charlie finds the woman to be one that she only knows by name, Jacqui. Charlie licks her dry lips, "Thanks," she mumbles, ducking her head to avoid Jacqui's eyes. She feels the urge to run and hide, the sight of all of these people now making her nervous as opposed to the apathy she'd felt days prior. The weight of their stares feels like a mountain being dropped on her shoulders.

Charlie takes her plate and basically runs back to the tent she and Seth used to share, deciding it's far better than being out in the open. When she gets there, she's pleasantly surprised to find both of the Dixon brothers to be gone. Taking a seat in front of the dying embers of their fire, she begins to eat. The pork n' beans aren't necessarily tasty, but they're warm and they're filling, and when she's finished, she wants more. But getting more would require her to go back to the main portion of camp, where Lori and her cold black eyes wait. The plate rattles as she carelessly places it aside, not paying attention to the new chip that appears as it comes into contact with a rock.

"Oh, what's this?" Merle's sleazy voice rolls over her like a wave, making her feel dirtier than before. "Little ol' Charlie's back, is she?"

Charlie glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, but doesn't show any other form of acknowledgement. She rises to her feet, sweeping up the plate and fork she tossed aside as she does, and strides back into the main portion of camp to return the plate.

"Ya havta come back sooner or later, sugar," Merle's voice hounds her.

Merle's right, of course, but she wishes he wasn't.

When she gets back to the small section of camp that belongs to her and the Dixons, she finds the elder of the two sprawled out in front of the fire pit. His legs are kicked up in front of him while one of his hands props him up and the other ferries a bottle of amber liquid to his lips. She pretends he isn't staring at her as she unzips the opening to her tent.

"Where ya goin'? I thought we'd have a li'l fun owt here. Ol' Merle's not gonna hurt'cha, baby," he coos, the contents of the bottle sloshing as he uses it to gesture at her.

Charlie stops, finally turning to look at the drunken man. Her eyes follow the bottle of liquid as if it were a pendulum in the hands of a hypnotist. She swallows thickly, an action that doesn't escape Merle's notice. He gives a grin, his crooked yellow teeth gleaming in the light of the fire. He holds up the bottle, waving it enticingly at her, and she can finally read the label. It's an expensive brand of whiskey, a brand that her father always kept on hand.

"It's this ya want, iznit?" Merle's grin is whittled down into an equally sleazy smirk, she imagines it's the same one a car salesman would give to a desperate customer. He knows that she wants it, and he knows that she has no other choice. Charlie grits her teeth, suppressing the urge to rip the glass bottle out of his hands and smash it over his head once she's drained the contents. The sudden flash of anger surprises and scares her, causes her stomach to twist uncomfortably. Where had this anger come from? Why hadn't she felt it earlier as Shane questioned her endlessly?

Charlie pivots on her heel, grabbing the zipper to the tent and ripping it open, fully intending on ignoring Merle and lying in her sleeping bag until she finally passed out.

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast," Merle admonishes, "ya can't run away yet." His choice in the words, 'run away,' causes her to flinch, but she turns to face him again anyway. "Ol' Merle's still gotta tell ya the best part!" He rolls the thin glass neck in his fingers a couple times, before flinging it across the fire pit. The lopsided bottle pinwheels through the air a couple times, streams of whiskey spewing from the mouth. It hits the ground sideways in front of her feet, clinking delicately on the rocks. Whiskey oozes and gushes from the opening, sinking into the ungrateful soil and disappearing. Faster than her pride cares to admit to, Charlie kneels and snatches the bottle off the ground before much more of it can fall. Thanks to the thin opening, not much had been wasted in transition.

Merle grins lecherously at her, breaking the seal on a new bottle and taking a deep swig, "The firs' drink's on me."

Charlie's eyes trail up and down the bottle, appreciating how nostalgic the label feels and how deep the color is. It's a beautiful transparent amber that catches and accents the light from the fire just right. The bottle's still over half full and thankfully unbroken from its rough handling. The message Merle sends is loud and clear, '_there's more where that came from._' But she knows that if this were a contract, there would be fine print at the bottom stating, '_but more comes at a price._'

Meeting Merle's eyes straight on, Charlie raises the bottle in silent cheers.


End file.
